Deleterious
by NellieRai
Summary: Caskett AU Meeting: "This was exactly what he'd been looking for. Something down and just a few shades shy from raunchy. No, actually it's just straight up raunchy. His eyes caught on the stage, bare flesh flashing but he wasn't actually here for the entertainment. No. He was here for the underbelly of it. The behind the scenes, off the stage, background. That was what he needed."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Castle is not mine. ****  
**

**a/n: WARNING THIS IS AU MEETING AND A DARKER TELLING OF IT: if you don't normally like them, then you probably won't like this one. I'm fine with it not being your cup of tea. People have different tastes, it's normal. **

**That being said: I will only update this every two weeks because I'm starting a degree program Monday. This is already prewritten (17 chapters of it anyway) and I want to stretch those out so it's not interfering with my school time or any of my writing days. It's something I can post when I don't have time to write for anything else. **

**Their ages have been played with. Not much. This first chapter asks more questions than answers them but everything does get explained.**

**I never intended to post this. It was just me trying out something a little different. Then I started sending it to a few select people and now two years after writing the majority of it, I'm finally posting. Also I should say now that I don't tolerate anon hate and you will be deleted because you're irrelevant to my life and my writing. ENJOY.**

How he ended up in a place such as this was no mystery. Research. He used the excuse religiously but it was the truth. He didn't frequent establishments like the one he'd just entered. Not his taste. With the music obscene, the dirty beat of it perfect for the scent of alcohol and sweat that wafted through the hazy air.

This was exactly what he'd been looking for. Something down and a just few shades shy from raunchy. His eyes caught on the stage, bare flesh flashing but he wasn't actually here for the entertainment. No. He was here for the underbelly of it. The behind the scenes, off the stage, background. That was what he needed.

He roamed through the tables, eyed the men ogling. Some women just as interested in the girl shedding her clothes. He ignored it for the most part – not that he was above sneaking a peek or two. He was a man after all and his eyes tended to just follow the sway of hips and scantily clad women.

He wasn't going to get distracted though. He'd watch part of the show, just to get a feel for the place. He already knew it wasn't a classy joint and that was why he'd picked it. The flashing neon signs in the blacked out windows had drawn him in. He just needed to find someone to talk to – one of the girls maybe or even the owner.

He'd already made the man standing off to the side of the stage as a manager. He had to be. He wasn't watching the woman wiggling around in her underwear and tattered pantyhose. He was watching the crowd, the men tossing obscenities and wads of cash. Interested in the business.

That had to be him. But Richard Castle did not rush things. He'd wait. Stick around, order a beer or two. He picked a table in the back, better to observe and resist the urge to punch the loud burly man in the front. The one he knew probably smelled of liquor and body odor. It bothered him that the guy pawed at the girl dancing every time she dipped down to let him slip the money in between her breasts.

Even in the back, he saw the disgust on her face. And then the relief when the song ended and she sauntered off the stage. Research. Just one more in the name of research. Plus the beer he'd signaled for hadn't arrived yet.

He expected another woman to come out when the music started and he wasn't disappointed. But he barely paid attention. He was scanning again, eyes searching for something and he caught it. A couple men talking to the one he'd pegged as manager. They'd lean in, pass something to him. Drugs maybe. He wasn't here to get mixed up in illegals.

At this point, he turned back to the stage, just in time to see the light hit some ridiculous stilettos clicking with each step the woman took and a leather skirt that drew attention to her crotch. Just another stripper. The song wasn't what he'd expected, something that made him smirk and wonder if she chose it.

But then he got distracted by the length of her legs, the power in her body. She didn't move like the other one. The one he'd seen before. No, this one was graceful. Even when she pulled the skirt from her hips, kicked it away with her heel, she didn't belong here. He'd bet money that she did not belong.

He was entranced with the sway of those hips. The round cheeks of her ass bared to him by a simple black lace thong and yet that's not what had his blood pumping. It was when she whipped back around, hair long and tousled around her face, her eyes locked on his. He didn't see a woman, didn't see an object to be possessed or someone to paw at and shove singles towards. He saw a little girl. He wasn't even sure she was old enough to be in such a place. Those eyes were wounded and hating every second of what she was doing.

She jerked her gaze away, as if she knew that he'd seen something he shouldn't. She pulled her shirt off on the next beat, tossed it at one of the men already waving paper at her. Her smile was fake and he shifted uncomfortably when she gathered her hair in her hands, rocked her hips from left to right. A slow sensual descent until she was on her knees. He tried not to look, tried not to notice the way her breasts almost spilled from the siren red of her bra when her palms met the stage, tried to tell himself she was a dancer in a sleazy strip joint. It would've worked if he hadn't seen those eyes. If he didn't know she was miserable, disgusted by the hands that slid money in her panties when she crawled by, prowling like a cat in heat.

The men loved her. Roared for her when she shot up to her knees, hair cascading down her back when she arched. The red painted lips and smokey eyes deceived them but not him. He saw her. And he wanted the story.

The sound of a glass hitting the wood of his table startled him, made him look up at the waitress and he knew she was the woman he'd seen mostly naked just minutes ago.

"Thanks." He handed her enough to cover it and a generous tip.

"No problem, sugar. Anything else?"

"Uh, the girl dancing, what's her name?"

"Krissy. You want a lap dance from her?" He knew he should say no but he gave a sharp nod. "She usually won't do them, very picky but I'd be more than happy -"

"Her. I want her." Didn't even ask how much it would cost him before she walked away in a huff, clearly upset that he'd turned her down. It didn't matter because he wasn't going to let _Krissy_ do it either. There was a line he wasn't crossing.

But he_ had_ to talk to her. He needed the story. What haunted her and why she was here when she clearly found it so degrading? She could be his ticket. His source of information on what went on behind the scenes. He just had to get her talking.

He watched her, more closely than he should have. Not as lewdly as the rest of the crowd but his eyes wandered, took in the strength in her thighs, groaned just a little when she turned her back. He'd keep it to himself when he spoke to her but her ass was perfect. And he felt like a pervert.

He dropped his gaze, fiddled with his beer before he took a long swig. He sucked it down eagerly, hoped to cool himself down. It worked. Or maybe what worked was the fact that she was gone when he looked back up. His interest was lost on anything but her as he searched for her, caught a glimpse over by the side door.

Watched as she talked to the man he'd pegged as 'in charge'. Her head shook as if she were saying 'no', her lips moving fast in argument. His fists tightened when the man grabbed her arm and spun her around but then he was being pointed at, caught staring and apparently the topic of their disagreement.

She closed her eyes, her shoulders slumped in defeat but only a brief second and then he watched the fake smile spread over her lips. He stopped looking, stared down at his beer because he knew she'd be by his side in only minutes.

Took half of one, maybe, and he could smell her perfume. Something sickeningly sweet that made his nose itch.

"Here's the deal: no touching, five minutes, fifty dollars." Her voice made him jump, startled by it. The low sultry tone that made him wonder if it was another layer to her facade but it fit her, oddly enough.

"Fifty?" His eyes skipped over her body, ignored all the skin on display to catch on her eyes. "That's a bit steep for you to sit in my lap isn't it?"

She said nothing, her lips thinned and he caught the way she bit at the inside of her mouth. He raised his hands in surrender, waved the white flag. She wasn't at all what he'd been looking for and that was either going to work in his favor or against him.

"I'll give you a hundred if you stay off my lap and just make yourself comfortable." He gestured to the chair. Tried to be gentlemanly enough to not stare when she cocked her hip. It was impossible with her so close and his eyes level with the expanse of her bared middle. "Please."

"Vincent won't like it."

"Ah, that the boss?" He expected her to blow it off, wasn't disappointed when she shrugged a shoulder. But she still wasn't sitting. "Just sit. I'm paying you."

He bit his tongue, saw the flash in her eyes and knew he'd made a mistake.

"I'm not an object to be bought."

"That's not what I meant. Maybe we could go somewhere else?" He just wanted to talk, was even keeping his eyes above her neckline. Sainthood should be awarded for such a feat when a fire engine red bra and black lace were the only things covering her.

She was spooked, wary, her eyes searching around quickly as if waiting for something to happen. And then she was shaking her head, hair falling in her face.

"I don't do that, okay? Maybe ask for Sapphire."

He blinked at her, brow scrunched, confused and then it caught up with him. His words. The way he'd presented them. He was screwing this up.

"No. I want you." Even as he'd said it, he'd cursed himself. Moron. He was a moron.

"You think you can buy me? Throw some money at me and I'll do anything you want? Expect me to just ask what would you like, a quick fuck in the bathroom or maybe just a blow job?" She was flaming. Her cheeks pink and her eyes full of fire. He had less than two seconds to fix it.

"No, no just listen." He reached for her wrist, tried to use it to keep her from walking off but she pulled it back before he could touch her. "Look, I know you hate this. You hate this place."

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not going anywhere with you, fuck off." She'd already turned her back and he slammed his eyes shut. Spat out the words in a rush to make her stay.

"Your name isn't Krissy, you hate that you're taking your clothes off for money, you hate standing there now in next to nothing." She stopped but didn't turn back and he wished she would. Didn't want to be tempted to let his gaze travel south. "You don't agree to lap dances, argued with your boss about it but I'm guessing I'm a bit wealthier than most in here and he didn't give you much of a choice. I'm not trying to buy you for anything but I wasn't lying."

"I don't believe you."

"Sit, talk to me and I'll give you a hundred. It doesn't have to be here but I'm not wanting anything more than conversation." She looked at the chair this time when he gestured but bit her lip and he wanted to shake her. Tell her not to do that when she was so scantily clad. It took a moment and then he knew.

She didn't want to sit when she was barely wearing anything. Without a word, he shrugged out of his jacket and offered it as a peace treaty. She stared at it, long seconds passed and finally with cautious fingers, she pulled it from his hand and slipped her arms through the sleeves.

"You've got five minutes before Vincent notices I'm not gyrating in your lap."

"You always this full of snark?" Her glare was reply enough. "Right. Okay, what's your name?"

"Krissy."

"No it's not."

"Well that's the one you're getting." Her rude tone was enough to have him smiling but then she leaned forward, elbows on the table and he was once again stunned by her face. The youthfulness behind the heavy black lining her eyes and the painted lips.

"Guess it would be pointless to ask how old you are."

"Old enough. Why are you asking this stuff?" Something told him she wasn't quite old enough to be working in a place serving hard liquor but he didn't call her on it.

"Just research."

"Are you one of those guys that gets off on this kinda thing? Just lonely? You're good looking enough I'm sure you can go find someone to chat with." Curiosity was on his side, she was watching him, frowning and then she took the bait. "How'd you know I hate it?"

"Your eyes."

"My eyes? What is this, a bad pick up line?"

"No. Just honesty. You hide it well but I saw the brief moment of panic and disgust. Something makes you do this, there's a reason you're here." He lifted his beer, drank slowly as he watched her fidget and pick at the sleeves of his jacket.

"You don't know me."

"You're right, I don't. But I know you don't belong here." He hit the nail on the head. Heard her quick intake of breath and caught the way she tried to hide it with a disinterested sigh.

"Pays nice. Speaking of, how 'bout you pay me so I can get home? My shift is over."

"Okay." Her eyes widened when he reached for his wallet. She hadn't thought he was serious? Well that was interesting. He wouldn't push it. He'd be back and he'd get the story but he had to let her go. Earn her trust. So he gave her the money, told her to keep the jacket as he stood up and then he walked away and left her sitting alone.

She was still staring at the cash when he glanced back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I will never own any part of Castle. **

**A/N: I'm a day early posting this but given the response to the last chapter, I assumed you guys wouldn't mind. ;) Thank you so much for all the favorites, reviews, and follows. I hope you'll enjoy the ride.**

**ALSO PSA: If you're a stripper, I have mad respect for you. This fic is in no way an insult, you'll learn why the place she works is so awful and sleazy in a few chapters. And it has nothing to do with her stripping. Just felt the need to clarify that because people are sexist and like to make women feel like they're doing something _wrong _when they aren't. Which also plays a big part in this fic. **

Two hundred and sixty-two dollars. That was the amount in Kate Beckett's pocket as she twisted the key in the lock and stumbled through the front door. It'd been a good night. She tried to put it out of her mind, tried not to think about how most of it was paid in singles or about the man who had given her a hundred dollar bill for just sitting at a table for less than five minutes. Okay she'd rather think of him than anyone else who gave her money tonight. She didn't know what to make of him, of his questions or the fact that she was still wearing his jacket even though she could have left it at the club when she changed back into her clothes. Nothing ever made sense anymore.

Barely five steps into the living room and she could smell the booze. Not a surprise. It hadn't been a surprise in months but each night she hoped it would be different. She wanted it to be different. She didn't want to be shuffling closer to the couch, didn't want to pull the throw blanket off the back but she did, she was. Because she couldn't leave him passed out without trying to make it a little more comfortable.

"Dad," it was a sigh of disappointment, worry, shame. He mumbled, slurred something she couldn't understand but his eyes never opened. Months. It'd been months of this.

Sometimes she wished she didn't love him so much. Just so it wouldn't hurt anymore. Grabbing the empty bottle from the coffee table and another that wasn't as empty, she headed for the kitchen. It angered her, made her blood boil if she thought too much. If she let herself think about how everything they had was gone, how the money that had been saved, her trust fund, everything was gone. All of it spent on alcohol and whatever else he used as a coping mechanism. She'd guess gambling.

She'd tried. Begged. Pleaded. Nothing worked. So she spent her nights dancing for money, keeping them afloat and he had no idea. He didn't know anything. She wasn't even sure he remembered losing his job or that she'd cried for three days because there was no way her waitress gig would provide groceries or keep the electricity on.

She almost poured the Jack in the sink and trashed both bottles but that was before she lifted it to her lips, paused a moment and then took a drink. Maybe her dad had the right idea. Just drink until it stopped hurting but she knew that it didn't ever stop. He wouldn't remember that he hadn't finished the second bottle. He wouldn't even remember that she'd come home later than she'd said she would. He never did. And she was too tired. Exhausted physically and emotionally, she ignored the growling of her stomach, the way it churned when she swallowed another gulp of the burning liquid and headed for her room. The room she'd moved out of, the one she'd left to attend Stanford and yet she was back and until she could manage to save up and get her dad sober, she was stuck. And numb.

She was numb to it, to the thought of her life being so broken to the point of her ending up taking her clothes off for money. Something that made her tip the bottle to her mouth once more and let the amber liquid slide down her throat. She ached for the buzz, wanted her brain to quiet enough to let her sleep.

It was a job. One that paid well enough to keep their fridge stocked. But she'd never wanted it. Hadn't planned to do it more than just once. One time to keep their electric bill paid but that was over a two months ago and she was dancing three nights a week now.

She wanted a shower, always did after her shift but her body would drop if she didn't find a bed. And she knew as soon as she fell face first onto her mattress that she wouldn't be moving at all. Unless it was to reach for the bottle she'd placed on the nightstand. But she was done. Her stomach ached and she really didn't want to be in the same boat as her father. She didn't even take off her shoes. She just laid there and let her brain race.

She missed her mom. None of this would be happening if her mom were still alive. Her father wouldn't be an alcoholic and she wouldn't be a stripper in a sketchy club at the age of nineteen. A college dropout. She couldn't ever tell which one hurt more - the fact that she didn't get to finish school or the fact that men shoved money in her bra and waistband all night long. It was obvious the biggest pain in her chest, the gaping hole in her heart was the loss of her mother. That had no competition. And maybe she didn't hide it as well as she thought.

Because someone had noticed her discomfort, her pain. And that was troubling. Someone had wanted to talk to her instead of just pay her for a lap dance. She didn't know what to do with that. She'd thought she had him figured out as soon as he'd opened his mouth, thought he'd wanted to take her somewhere, charm her out of her clothes and pay her a little extra for a good time.

But she'd been wrong.

It had never occurred to her that he'd be a decent guy. She wondered when that part of her died, the part that saw the good in people instead of assuming everyone had an agenda, an awful twisted agenda. And then she scoffed at herself, buried her face in her pillow. It had died the night her mother had. In that same alley.

A fucking alley. Like a piece of trash. The tears came, she didn't fight them. They welled up with the pain in her head and the lump in her throat. The choked sob forced its way out despite how she tried to hold it in. It was pointless. She wasn't strong enough to stop the tears. She let them leak out, create darkened rings of damp patches beneath her cheek. She was letting her down. Letting her mom down, she'd be so ashamed. Not even the cash in her pocket could lessen the sting of that.

She cried for her mother, for the life that had been taken. She wept for herself, for what she'd become. And she cried for her father, just wanted him to be better. She didn't want to do this anymore. But she would. Because she had to. She tried, tried so hard and it was exhausting.

Tomorrow she'd be stronger, better. Tomorrow she'd pull it together again, make it through another day. But in the privacy of her room, she broke. Just a little. Just a crack because that was all she'd allow. And then she'd push it back down. Go to work. She had to be at the diner in a few hours. She needed to sleep. She just_ wanted _to sleep. And yet she was crying, fiercely wiping at her face, disgusted with herself. She tried to think of something else, something happier, something that wasn't her life falling apart. God he'd been right. That man in the club had called bullshit and he didn't even know her, had never seen her before.

Maybe she'd get a chance to return the jacket she was still wearing. Maybe he'd give her more money to sit with him again. It was less scandalous, less degrading than what she was normally paid for. She'd never had anything against strippers. It was a job like any other but she never saw herself as one. She never saw herself working for a place like the one she'd ended up in. And she found herself wishing, hoping that the strange man would be back, hoping he wasn't a creep.

And now she had questions. Why'd he ask for her? Why did he want to talk? What made him call her out? His name. She didn't even think to find out his name when he'd been so interested in hers. She hadn't been very comfortable with the situation. Hadn't trusted him. Still didn't, she didn't know him but he'd paid her and she hadn't even answered a single question he'd asked. She'd thought he wouldn't pay. She'd thought he was lying. So she hadn't taken it seriously, had been rude and completely impossible. She was used to guys trying to touch her, ask her for sexual favors, toss lewd comments at her just because they assumed if she was stripping, then she'd be willing to have sex for money too.

Hard pass. She would never sell that. Ever. She wouldn't. She'd maintain some form of dignity and she'd been insulted and pissed off when she'd thought that was exactly what he had wanted. At one point she'd wondered if perhaps he was a cop because she knew a lot of shady things happened there, turned a blind eye for the sake of staying out of it. But no. He didn't look the part. He had left her absolutely flabbergasted.

And in a bit of a hot seat with her boss. She wasn't sure she'd ever actually consider a man like Vincent to be anything more than a sleaze but he'd shown a temper. She'd had to stay late, listen to him yell because she hadn't performed the way he'd wanted. He ripped off the dancers, controlled them, she'd known that before she ever asked for a job but she'd been desperate and in need of something far enough away from home that she wouldn't be recognized. She hadn't known he kept a percentage of their earnings. A high percentage. Thirty-five percent of the money she'd earned went in his pocket and not hers. Except for the hundred she'd gained sitting on her ass. She hadn't told him about that and she wasn't sure she wanted to be around if he ever found out.

She didn't want to think about it anymore. She wanted to sleep. She wiped at her face once more, promised herself she'd shower first thing when she woke up and maybe she'd finally unpack the boxes stacked in the corner. She sucked in a breath, turned to look at the framed photo on her nightstand and the bottle of Jack next to it. One moment had changed everything.

"I don't know how to do this anymore, Mom." She didn't know how to be herself. She didn't even know who she was.

She was a stripper. _Krissy. _She let men shove dollar bills in her underwear in a sleazy club. But not for a couple of days. She was just Kate. Katie when her dad wasn't passed out. And that had to be enough. It _had_ to, because she couldn't leave him. He'd be dead. He didn't take care of himself. He'd be dead and she'd be orphaned. He was all she had. So she'd stayed and would continue to do so. She'd work her shift tomorrow as a waitress and hope for good tips. Maybe she'd have some money left over. Enough that she didn't have to put all of it into keeping them afloat.

Her last thought before she finally gave in to the tired ache in her body was that the jacket wrapped around her smelled like the ocean. Fresh and clean.

If she wasn't so fucked up, if her life wasn't complete shit, she would've taken that as a sign. Some sappy teenage girl crud about how maybe this would be a clean slate. Maybe this was a sign of hope. But no, she fell asleep thinking he smelled nice and she still smelled like cheap perfume and cigarettes - end of story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy playing. :)**

**A/N: I just want to explain why I only update every two weeks: I'm in an accelerated college program now and have zero writing time. Since it's accelerated, I'll get a bachelors degree in two years instead of four so yeah, I have zero free time. Yes there are 17 chapters of this pre-written but I've posted three now so I only have 14 more. I don't have time right now to write so I want to stretch these chapters out so I don't run out and leave this story un-updated for six+ months or so. **

**So I know you guys mean well by asking for an update sooner and I'm so very grateful that you're interested and like this enough to want more quickly but I'm sticking to my schedule for a reason. Regardless of the updating, I hope you still enjoy the fic.**

She was late, running through the back door and shrugging out of her jacket before it ever closed. Her eyes adjusted to the haze and dim lighting in the hallway as she looked around to see if anyone was lurking, if she was in trouble. The coast was clear. She had the nine o'clock and it was ten till. She'd have to improvise, she didn't have time to do much and that scared her.

It twisted in her gut when she tugged her hair out of the ponytail, tousled it a bit as she headed for the so-called dressing room. It was a cramped space for five girls. A couch in the corner that smelled as if it'd been plucked out of a dumpster and ratty old bar stools lined up in front of a single large mirror. She needed more time. As she caught sight of herself, she knew she needed more time. She was still in street clothes.

"You're late." A blond she didn't care to remember the real name of chirped it at her as if she didn't know how to read a clock. Sapphire.

"Yeah, yeah I know." She knew better than any of them what that meant. She'd deal with an ass chewing and she'd be up on that crappy little stage in less than ten minutes with barely any prep.

Her face was still clean and she was terrified. She needed the mask. She lived behind it. She couldn't go out there basically bare faced. She could not go up there as Kate Beckett. She barely made it as Krissy without having time for a little liquid courage.

She ignored the snickering when she rummaged through her bag, shrugged off the comment the woman made about her hair being a mess. They all had their secrets to deal with this life and hers came in the form of the vodka she'd borrowed from her dad's stash, hidden in a water bottle. She grabbed it, and the makeup bag.

Eight minutes. She didn't even have an outfit planned but she shoved it to the back of her mind, took a seat in front of the mirror, purposefully sitting one stool away from Sapphire. She knew what happened when that one was on break. Said not a word when the syringe appeared, it wasn't her business. She pretended not to notice anything that happened in this room.

It wasn't hard to look the other way and that really should have bothered her. It didn't. Not when she was lining her eyes with thick black and grays while swallowing mouthful after mouthful of alcohol. It made her feel sick, it always did but it settled quickly. Usually. Not this time. Not since she'd sucked it back quickly, no chaser, no time between gulps. No, she was still nauseous with it when she realized she only had five more minutes.

Her hair was a lost cause, she didn't touch it, left the unruly waves instead of curling them. Her lips stayed their natural color. She was rushing. Shoving her pants down her legs when the click of heels and slow shuffle of feet made her freeze. Almost. She'd almost made it. She knew that scuff of cheap knock off shoes, knew the clacking of the high heels that followed.

"Third time this month, Kris." His eyes were on her bare thighs as he said it, making her skin crawl. He was a letch. A complete pervert but she didn't let her disgust for him show.

"Sorry." She kicked off her chucks and stepped out of her jeans. And for some reason it didn't hit her until then that she'd forgotten shoes. She'd been in a hurry, thrown together a bag in haste and didn't even bring along a pair of heels.

"I don't want an apology. I want you topless and on that stage. Two minutes, better hurry."

"Come on, Vin, she's just a kid." Esmeralda. Another name she knew wasn't legit and yet Kate actually liked her. Even if she did follow the creep everywhere. Her green eyes were kind despite the haze overcast and despite her behavior, her words, she was a kid too. "Give her a few extra minutes, I'll go out and stall the natives."

He seemed to contemplate it, dragged his eyes from her bare toes to her still clothed upper torso. She hated Wednesdays. Hated them more than any other night and she'd been lucky, only had to work a handful of them. Topless night. Pasties only. God she hated those things. She didn't like being so bare in front of the people that came to watch and chuck dollars at her.

"I'll be ready in two minutes." He leered before he nodded and left. Too easy. She'd be pulled aside later and properly reamed.

Her hands were shaking when she reached for the water bottle. She downed the rest of the vodka in one long pull and felt the warmth spread through her stomach, out to each limb. The buzz would come in a few minutes.

"I would've gone out and let you have more time, Kris." She was beginning to hate ever making up that name, they'd shortened it, made it a nickname. Too personal. Even if it wasn't hers, it was too fucking personal. But she liked Esmeralda and it was clear she meant no harm.

"I know. But it's my responsibility."

"Then at least let me help. You strip and I'll paint your face." Maybe one day she'd ask for the redhead's real name and trade it for her own but for now, she just gave her a soft tilt of her lips. "I have extra heels too if you need them."

They understood each other. The more gimmick to it, the less it ripped at the soul. It took two and a half minutes and by then her muscles were loose and warm. Her brain buzzed and hummed but the jitters were gone.

She was calm enough when she headed backstage, grateful that her face was covered, hidden behind layers of makeup. Dark lips, blush, eyes smokey and hidden. She'd kept her simple blue panties on, they matched the stupid heart shaped pasties covering her nipples. Stupid. It was fucking stupid. Hearts. Blue zebra print hearts. She almost giggled. Almost found it amusing.

Part of her knew that was from the vodka. The still churning vodka. She had to make it through her dance.

She was center stage before she even realized she'd walked out. Swaying and tugging at the ends of her shirt. She didn't even hear the music. Didn't care what it was. She didn't choose it this time. The only thing she chose were the moves she made. She was numbed, pleasantly so.

Even with the nausea, she didn't care about the money tossed at her, the greedy fingers. The savage yells when she stripped the shirt over her head. She closed her eyes, tuned it out as she made use of the pole. Sliding, twisting, spinning.

Dizzy. It made her dizzy. She wasn't so good at any of this. She rocked her hips against the cool metal, rested her overheated cheek against it. Her eyes opened, stared straight ahead, to the back row of tables and she froze. The air sucked out of her lungs, her head felt too heavy and her stomach lurched. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think and felt sick. And then he smiled at her.

The hurricane in her belly intensified, rolling into one intense wave that had her clutching her middle. She was gonna be sick. She barely felt someone push money in her waistband, she was staring at the stranger in the back.

And then she wasn't because she was stumbling backstage.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The yell didn't stop her. Nor did the next. "Get the fuck back up there!"

Her eyes watered, her throat burned and one violent push from her stomach had her hand over her mouth as she shoved out the door to the alley behind. She barely made it, heaved as her hands gripped the railing of the ramp.

She gagged, choked. Her abused stomach protested, lurched. She heard the door slam open just as she heaved again and everything left in her was expelled in the dirty alley.

"For fuck's sake." He touched her shoulder but she shrugged him off. Didn't want such greasy paws on her skin. She was trembling, holding herself up, still leaned against the rail. "Clean yourself up and get back inside. You're not back in thirty minutes, don't bother."

She heard him but gave no acknowledgment. She'd be back, she needed the money. But she also needed the fresh air. As soon as he left her alone, she straightened and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. Her stomach gurgled but was calm, the storm within had passed. The breeze cooled her skin, made her aware of how little she had on and yet she made no move to go back in.

_He _was inside and she'd just embarrassed herself monumentally. The mystery man that paid her to just talk. She'd wondered, contemplated and even daydreamed about if he'd show up again but she'd lived with the belief that he wouldn't. That it was a one time fluke.

Was he stalking her?

This time she turned when the door opened, prepared to face her boss again but it wasn't him. It was someone else, someone that had her jaw dropping just a little. Oh god, he _was_ stalking her. She stepped back when he stepped forward, already planning an escape route if he attacked.

"Are you stalking me?" It wasn't what she'd planned to say. It just came out but the lack of shock on his face, the way he pushed a fistful of balled up fabric at her made it clear he'd expected it.

"One of the other girls gave me this, said it was yours." He wasn't looking at her. It wasn't the first time he'd avoided letting his eyes roam and she quickly snatched at the shirt.

"How'd you sneak back here, it's staff only." She felt better as soon as she was partially covered. The cotton was warm from his hand, the heat welcome to her rapidly cooling skin.

"Your boss is scum but he's easily bought. He also mentioned you were busy puking."

"Great. Go ask him questions, stalk him."

"You ever gonna tell me your name?"

"I fail to see how it's relevant. You show up at a place like this, you don't want names or to know what my favorite color is, you want to see skin and shove singles in my panties." The truth was, she had no idea what he wanted and it made her more uncomfortable than fat drunk Tony getting handsy. "And I don't know you."

"Introductions are generally how people start getting to know each other." He looked entirely too smug, completely at ease with himself as he sidled up next to her, placed his palms on the railing.

"Okay then. Tell me your name and I'll consider telling you mine."

"Rick." It rolled off his tongue without hesitation. She let it echo around in her head. He didn't really look like a Rick. "Your turn."

"No."

"I'm fairly certain that's not your name." She made the mistake of turning to join him, to look out at the side of the building next door with the graffiti painted across it. "I would offer to pay you for it but..."

He was teasing. She almost thought he was being a jerk but no, he was actually teasing. Picking at her with a smirk on his face and she knew she had that confused look on hers.

"Why'd you come out here?"

"I think you're interesting." It wasn't a bad answer but it wasn't a good one. She blew it off.

"People vomiting in alleyways do it for ya?"

"Only the pretty ones." She tried to ignore the zing in her blood when he said that. Pushed it back. "You're not old enough for this, I know that."

It was the same thing he'd said to her last time. And following the same pattern, she hid carefully behind her walls and squared her shoulders. Prepared for a fight. It wasn't his business. Her life was no ones fucking business.

"You should get back inside, enjoy the show. I have to change before I'm fired for taking too long." He stared at her, she could feel it but she wouldn't turn into it. Would not. She kept her eyes on the filth in front of her. Told herself that she didn't feel bad, when he sighed in resignation. Told herself she didn't feel a pang of disappointment that he gave up. No. She didn't because he was a creepy stalker.

Except he wasn't. He wasn't creepy. A little weird and clumsy. Eloquent. And extremely confusing. But she knew creeps and he was not one. Not unless her judgment had been impaired by the smooth lines of his face. He was handsome. She'd admit that much. But she still didn't look, ignored the pull of his eyes, the curve of his lips.

"Purple."

"What?" That had her turning to face him. Just as he'd headed for the door.

"Your favorite color. It's purple." And once again, he left her gaping. Staring after him as the door closed. He confused her.

* * *

It hadn't been a bad night. Minus the vodka incident and feeling like shit for the rest of it. That was what she repeated over and over in her head as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. _It was a good night._ She'd made up for it, played it safe by doing everything Vincent asked of her for the rest of the night. Waited tables for him, dealt with a couple handsy men and took the ass chewing he gave her about being friendly to the customers. Friendly, for him, meant getting handsy back. And she never did.

He'd held almost half her earnings as punishment but she'd kept her mouth shut. Kate wasn't stupid. She knew when to hold her tongue and it equaled her keeping almost three hundred dollars. There was always more business on Wednesdays. It made the boss crazier than usual, had him acting like even more of a jerk. She didn't let it get to her. Told herself it was just another peril that came with the job. She'd blown off his questions about her deep pocketed 'friend'. It was just like her life. None of his business. She showed up, dolled up, took off her clothes, danced around and then she went home and that was all anyone needed to know.

Except even as she wiped the last of the makeup off her face, the dark mascara that had gathered beneath her eyes, she found herself smiling and waving when Esmeralda left. Maybe she was getting attached but it didn't mean anything. Krissy could be civil, could form a friendship.

It was Kate Beckett that had a problem with it. She didn't want to fall into a routine, didn't want to start caring for anyone in this place. This wasn't her life. She stared at her reflection. The broken girl revealed after a night of hiding beneath a mask. And she scoffed at herself. This _was_ her life.

And her dad was probably waiting for her. She grabbed up her bag and headed out. Her feet were hurting, blistered from the heels she'd borrowed and each step ached, stung. She kept going, through the door, out into the dark of night.

Straight into the solid warm mass lurking there. Her instincts kicked in, her body tensing and she thought back to if she'd put pepper spray in her bag or not as hands closed around her arms.

"Whoa, easy." The voice melted over her like warm butter and she shouldn't have relaxed, should not have let her guard down so easily but when she tilted back to see his face, half shadowed, she wasn't scared.

"What the fuck are you doing back here?"

"You look a lot younger without the heavy makeup." His lips quirked in an easy grin as she shoved him away. Her head was hurting, her stomach still a little on the sore side and she was not in the mood to deal with anyone.

"We closed over an hour ago, stalker."

"I'm not stalking you."

"Of course not because it's not like you show up at my work, hang around for hours and then corner me in a dark alley, oh wait -"

"If you were actually afraid of me, you would've ran by now." He had a point. She'd give him that but she didn't say a word. She actually contemplated walking away. "I'm a writer."

"A writer?"

"Novelist. Richard Castle." She blinked at him, hoped he got the hint that she didn't care. That she needed to get home and probably try to peel her wasted father off the floor. "So when I said I wanted to ask you some questions for research, I meant for a book. I'm still willing to pay you."

"Why me? There are four other girls and plenty of other strip clubs with classier dancers and way better names than Bottoms Up."

"I'm specific."

"And persistent." He gave a short chuckle, followed when she started walking. He was definitely persistent but she was also now curious. Richard Castle. She bit her lip, knew she'd heard that name before. And now he wanted to pay her for information. "Okay, so say I agree to this - how much would you pay me?"

"How much do you want?"

"How long would it take?"

"Let me give you a ride home and we can work it out." Alarm bells went off in her head, loud and blaring.

"I don't even know you. I would be an idiot to get into a car with you." She was also an idiot for even considering his offer but she needed some help. Needed a way to save up so she could eventually quit stripping. And it couldn't be worse than what she was already doing.

"Understood. Can I at least walk you to yours?"

"I take the subway."

"This late?" At her nod, he shook his head. "I'll get you a cab."

"I'll be fine. Explain this deal or I walk away now."

"I just want to talk to you about the club, why you chose to work there and what kinds of things go on behind the scenes. Even the sketchy parts." His voice bled excitement and she couldn't help but feel some of it seep into her as well. He was contagious.

"And if I'm not comfortable sharing any of that?" She wasn't. Not to a stranger. Not to anyone.

"Well I guess I'd be paying you to just sit there and shoot down every question I ask. You could at least tell me your name."

"I didn't ask for you to come into the club, I didn't ask you to become so goddamn fascinated with me. I didn't want any of this so explain to me why I should be obligated to tell you my name."

"Anyone ever tell you, you'd make a good lawyer?" He was joking, he had to be. He didn't know. But she froze.

In that instant she froze. She tried to mask it, tried to hide behind a glare but he knew. She could see it in his eyes. Oh. Soft blue eyes. She shouldn't have looked.

"I need to get home." And this time, she was the one to walk away and leave him dumbstruck.

But he'd pulled one over on her. Something she didn't notice until she was a block away and slid her hands in the pockets of the jacket she hadn't even offered to give back to him. Her fingers hit paper, something crisply folded. And when she wrapped them around it and slowly extracted them from the pocket, her heart raced in her chest.

He'd slipped her another hundred dollar bill, a folded napkin with his number and she hadn't felt a thing. She knew she had to give it back but she also knew she wouldn't. She used it to cover cab fare because she hated taking the subway late at night but she'd never tell him that. He'd be entirely too satisfied with himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: I honest to goodness named the club Bottoms Up a year ago and died when a club called Bottoms Up was mentioned in the show. Not even kidding. Five people can vouch for me on this.**

**Here's the next chapter.**

Six days. It'd been six days since he'd seen her and maybe he'd messed up by sliding his number in her jacket. His jacket. She'd been wearing his jacket and that shouldn't have had him smiling as he flipped another pancake but it did.

A pretty girl wearing his jacket always had his blood buzzing, sizzling much the same as the breakfast he was cooking. The fact that it was _her_ just made his head even fuzzier. But he knew she would have found it by now.

He'd scared her. She'd have called if he hadn't. That hadn't been his intention, he just didn't want to keep showing up to watch her strip. That wasn't helping her, that was ogling. And he was guilty of heated looks, of letting his eyes follow the curve of her spine when she arched her back. He'd felt the stirring in his groin when she rocked her hips against the metal stripper pole and he'd never been so envious of an inanimate object before that moment.

She was young, he knew that but it hadn't stopped his eyes from locking on her breasts that split second before she'd barreled off the stage. Her eyes had found his, she'd been startled to see him and then his gaze had dropped. Hearts. They were cute, he'd say that much. He was a guy, he wasn't a saint. He noticed the flare of her hips, the long line of her legs. But he also hated that she was up there – on display like that – because he knew it pained her to be.

He added another golden, delicious smelling pancake to the growing stack on the plate. And before he let his thoughts be consumed with _her, _he poured the last of the batter and stared as it rounded at the edges. Perfection in something so simple.

Perfection. Something he knew _she_ was not. Or maybe she was, just in different form.

It haunted her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. He had to stop. Had to let it go. She wasn't his. She wouldn't be his. Even if she called, even if she agreed to let him ask some questions. She was in no way someone he should be involved with. He had no right to even contemplate how cute and gorgeous she'd looked with no makeup on, her hair in a low ponytail, the waves falling over her shoulder.

Stop. He had to stop thinking of her. He didn't even know her name. But he had a feeling it'd be perfect. Something sharp and beautiful to match those cheekbones and the intensity in her gaze. She was a mystery and he needed and craved the knowledge within her.

He didn't have a clue how long she'd been stripping, or why she did it but he'd only needed a few seconds of watching her to see that she wouldn't be there if it wasn't a last ditch attempt. But an attempt at what? He wasn't even sure he could use the excuse of "research" anymore. Not honestly. Because the truth of it was, she piqued something within him. Something he didn't quite understand but knew he needed to explore.

She didn't just turn him on and leave him frowning with her prickly conversational skills. Her lack of interest. She was more than that. It'd been a long time since someone had him so bewildered and enamored. And he didn't even know her. Didn't know her name. Why wouldn't she share that much?

Days. He'd been at it, thinking of her for days. He almost burnt the last pancake. Still consumed by the fact that he had nothing more than a mysterious young woman as inspiration. Until his concentration on her was obliterated by something tugging at his pant leg.

"Daddy?" Blue eyes blinked up at him, little fingers rubbing at the corners and a yawn swallowed whatever she'd wanted to say.

"Hey Pumpkin. You hungry?"

"Wanna go home." For once he didn't correct her, didn't push for the use of complete sentences because her lip trembled and she hugged Monkey Bunkey to her chest.

He turned the stove off, no longer caring about the tower of pancakes he'd been building for them.

Pushing the stripper out of his mind as he lifted his daughter into his arms and brushed the red tangles out of her face.

"We talked about this, remember? This is our new home. We have all of our things here." Some of it was still in boxes but most had been unpacked and placed in various spots. Clothes were in closets, beds were in bedrooms. He'd unpacked his little girl's room first, hoping to avoid situations such as the one he found himself in.

"Don't like it."

"I thought you said it was cool and you were excited?"

"Makes funny sounds." He held her tighter, let her snuggle into his chest and wrap her arm around his neck. "I don't wanna sleep here."

"Well then, how 'bout you sleep in my bed tonight but only if we have ice cream for dinner." He tickled her side, loved hearing the sound of her laugh and her squeals as she wiggled in his hold.

"Daddy!" He kept tickling until she was breathless, until the hiccups started and then he sat her up on the counter with a warning to be careful and pushed the smaller mountain of buttered pancakes her direction.

She grabbed the bowl of strawberries, cradled it in her hands and held it carefully against her pink and purple pajamas as she scooped out more than she could eat. Definitely his daughter. He was just about to comment on it when the shrill ring blared through their comfortable morning routine.

And then the stripper was back at the forefront of his mind. The thought completely threw him off guard when he realized how wrong that was in the presence of the little girl frowning at her pancakes as she added blueberries.

"Don't move, Alexis." He kissed her head and almost sprinted to the phone. He expected the call to be from his publisher – just like the last several – but some tiny part of him still hoped.

He watched his daughter as he wrapped his fingers around the cordless phone, pressed the button and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?" Seconds ticked by with only the fuzz of silence coming through the receiver. "Hello?"

And then the click followed by dial tone. He pulled the phone back, stared at it as if it knew what had just happened. He'd barely put it down when it rang to life again. Alexis looked up, he shrugged his shoulders and made her giggle. Then he was repeating the same motions as before, lifting it but he didn't even get out the hello.

"_I'll talk to you." _He knew. He knew immediately that it was her. She sounded different, smaller. But the same smokey voice filtered through, the one that invaded his sleep.

"Well that's a relief considering _you _called _me_."

"_There's a diner by the club. I can be there in half an hour."_ It was too soon, he had responsibilities. The biggest one being the tiny human he was raising, the one shoving handfuls of strawberries in her mouth but he didn't even have a chance to explain because she'd already hung up.

He was just a few shades shy of pissed off at that. She was rude, inconsiderate and he was definitely confronting her. But first he had a munchkin to feed and his mother to call. He'd take as long as he needed.

* * *

She was nervous. More nervous than she was that very first time she'd found herself taking off her clothes for strange men and women. Her stomach twisted at just the thought. Okay maybe she wasn't quite that nervous. Her hands were shaking as she picked at her nails but she wasn't to the quaking, sweaty mess she'd been the first night she was strapped in 'fuck-me' heels, a corset that was too small and smothered in cheap perfume.

She hated that perfume. Hated that they were required to wear anything. She liked lotions, subtle feminine scents. Not heavy musky ones. She didn't wear anything now, she'd been fresh out of the shower when she finally got the guts to just call him.

Richard Castle. She'd spent the entire night curled in the corner of her room with one of his books. She'd known his name sounded familiar, found the dusty pages on her mother's nightstand when she'd been looking for her dad.

She still wasn't sure why she'd checked the bedroom. He hadn't slept there since it happened. Maybe she'd been hoping it would be the first sign of him getting better, of no longer dealing with slurred sentences and finding him face down in his own vomit. But no, he'd been in the bathroom. She'd left him there, passed out in the floor by the bathtub.

And she'd ended up going back to grab that book. She'd dusted off the back cover, stared at his face longer than necessary before she cracked it open.

It was good. She'd finished it before sunrise, showered, and called. And she'd been sitting in a tattered old booth for about an hour. Even after she'd told herself it was obvious he wasn't coming. Part of her held on.

She'd stopped looking up every time the door chimed after the first thirty minutes had ticked by. She didn't know where he lived, where he was coming from. She'd played with the ends of her braid, tugged at her long gray sleeves, wiped her palms several times. Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Would he even be driving? She didn't know anything so she'd stopped being disappointed each time it wasn't him walking through the door. She'd retreated in on herself, focusing solely on her hands, picking at her cuticles, her nails. She tore them to shreds.

What if he was lost? She hadn't told him the name of the diner, she'd been in too much of a hurry to just hang up. To get everything out before her dad walked in. She was an idiot. He had no idea where she was, he'd probably laughed off the call and went about his daily business.

Why did that make her chest feel so heavy?

He was a job opportunity, a chance to make some extra money. He was not something to get attached to. But the truth of it, she already was. She didn't have friends, she'd isolated herself. That was easier. She had her dad. She didn't talk to anyone, she kept everything locked in and yet he'd pushed, asked her things that left her uncomfortable.

He knew her favorite color without her saying a goddamn word about even liking it. She was already looking for him each time she danced because he didn't drool and paw at her like all those others. And that was why she needed to do this, get it over with, walk away. He'd stop showing up for good and she could go back to whatever the fuck her life had become.

It'd taken several tries to call him. The first two she only let it ring once and hung up quickly but he'd answered today, the fourth time she'd called – tried to – in the last week. And then she'd hung up again. Hated herself for that. For being embarrassed about it.

Even now her cheeks heated at the thought. She'd called right back, pushed the words out and then hung up before he could even accept or reject the offer. And look where that had got her. She was alone with a glass of water by her arm and the moisture from the glass soaking into the cracked wood of the table.

If they asked her to buy something or leave, she'd have to go. She didn't have enough change in her pocket for anything and every time the waiter had stopped, she'd told him she was waiting for someone. But no one had come. Not yet. She was just the girl in the corner that picked at her hands and refused eye contact.

She ignored everyone, kept her head down. And hissed quietly when she tugged at a hang nail and made it bleed. The bright red bubbled up quickly, the sting of it making her suck her thumb between her lips.

That was when she looked up, her eyes already searching for the clock but instead she found him. She almost smiled but didn't. He was looking for her, eyes scanning and she only gave a little wave of her fingers when he found her.

Her nerves were jumping, her thumb was stinging but she pulled it away from her mouth as he approached. He didn't smile either.

The booth creaked when he took a seat, she dropped her hands to her lap and found it extremely hard to look at him. Now that she knew what he was capable of, who he really was. The fact that 'bestseller' had been stamped to the front of the novel she'd held all night long.

His eyes seemed too blue, his hair looked too soft and she ignored the small burst of excitement that heated in her belly when she'd seen the scruff on his jaw. He was a job opportunity. Business. She didn't even like him. He was pushy and confusing. But she couldn't deny he was attractive.

"You called me." His tone was sharp, to the point. "Don't call me and hang up on me before I can even agree to meet. I was in the middle of something."

It started with the way her ears burned, her chest tightened and ended with her eyes narrowed at him.

"You didn't have to come." She felt like a child being chastised and she didn't like it. Didn't like the way he scrubbed a hand over his face either. It was distracting.

"I have responsibilities -"

"Are you implying I don't?" Her voice came out filled with more than she'd wanted to showcase, she hadn't intended to sound so vulnerable.

"No. That's not – look this clearly isn't working so let's just cut to the chase."

"Fine by me." She bit it all back. Every emotion. Prepared to give calculated answers he could use. But she wasn't ready for his first question.

"How much do you want for this?"

"Uh, I – I don't know. How much do you offer others?"

"I don't." And those two simple words were a sucker punch to the gut. It knocked the wind out of her, left her baffled. "But you wouldn't talk to me any other way."

"Could've picked someone else." It was childish and it made him smirk. She decided to aim high. "Five hundred."

"Two."

"Four-fifty." She wasn't about to beg but he'd asked and maybe she wanted some extra. Just for a chocolate shake and to find the nearest bookstore, find something else he'd written. Get lost in his words again. She hadn't felt that relaxed or free since her mother's death.

"Three."

"Five hundred."

"You're supposed to -"

"No. You asked and I told. That's what I want." Nothing she had was worth that amount. She was ripping him off, basically stealing. But the electric was due, so was the payment for her motorcycle. The water bill would be next.

He was going to leave. He'd just get up and go because there was no way he'd pay that much just to ask her some questions. And she couldn't blame the guy for staring at her with his eyebrows raised as if she'd lost her damn mind.

"Deal."

"What?" She hadn't expected that. Didn't know what to say because there was no way she'd be okay taking that much money. That was too much. She'd asked, she'd hoped it would be that easy but no. No it wasn't right.

"I said 'deal'. Now first question: your name?"

"Not happening."

"Okay, worth a shot. So, why did you pick Bottoms Up? Obviously it wasn't the classy title that drew you in." And for some reason, this time she trusted him enough to feel amused. To just answer as truthfully as possible.

Maybe it was because she'd read a book by him, hoped to one day be reading and see something familiar.

"It's far enough away from home and sleazy enough that no one I know should ever be there." If he was shocked by the answer, he didn't show it. Just nodded, his eyes excited as he clasped his hands and leaned closer.

Her heart picked up pace when his lips moved again, his voice a whisper.

"It's a dirty club, isn't it? Underage dancers, drugs, that kind of thing?"

"Yes." God what was she thinking. If this got out in any way, she'd be out of a job and Vincent would probably kill her. She'd felt the anger in his hands once. Only once when he'd gripped her arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

She was thinking of the money, of how good a chocolate shake would taste, of not having to worry about how to split her weekly earnings and still barely have enough to pay the mortgage and keep her dad's cabin and her bike.

"Do you have proof?"

"What does that have to do with anything? You didn't say I had to -"

"Calm down, I was only asking. It's not important." He leaned back again, gave her enough room to inhale and exhale heavily in an attempt to get it together.

"You caught me before I'd had breakfast and I'm a little hungry, you want anything?" He was flagging down a waiter before she could even protest.

She couldn't afford anything until he paid her. She only had a few dollars.

"I -"

"My treat. Pick anything." It was rude of her. It was but she still ordered a burger and a chocolate shake. Her rumbling stomach appreciated his generosity.

Ten was close enough to lunch time for her. It was probably the only opportunity she'd have to shovel anything down so yes, she took advantage of him. She was always busy, more concerned with making sure her dad ate and she was already taking his money so what was one meal.

"Thank you." Her palms were sweating, she rubbed them against her thighs and dropped her eyes back to the cracks in the poorly painted table. The hideous greens and blues becoming interesting. Her conscience was yelling too much. "For the food. Just keep what it costs out of the -"

"Nonsense. While we wait, you want to tell me more about the interesting set of characters you work with?"

"Not really. I mean I don't even know their names."

"Sounds familiar."

Ignoring the dig, and the twist in her chest caused by it, she shrugged a shoulder and finally met his gaze again. If she was about to rip the man off for five hundred dollars, she could at least be truthful.

"They're mostly rejects. People the world chewed up and spat back out. I know there are nice places, where girls can dance and make a lot more money, nicer and cleaner places. But not there." She bit her lip for a minute, pausing enough to gather her thoughts in the right order. "We have one room to get ready in, all of us. There's a lot that goes on that everyone pretends to not see."

"Like what?" He was ensnared, she could see it in his brow, the way the muscles of his face tightened as he watched her closely. And for a brief moment she wondered what it'd be like to push back the hair that fell over his forehead. She wondered what they looked like to the waiter, to the people eating around them.

Were they as awkward as she felt or did they seem like friends?

"Like ways to numb themselves before going onstage, before doing other things." She didn't want to speak too loud, didn't want their conversation overheard. "Some of the girls make more by doing more. It's just hard for them. I barely handle the dancing."

"The others don't look like you."

"I don't know what that means."

"They don't look like they would do anything to get away from there." Okay, she did know. She knew because she'd seen it too. She'd asked before. About why they'd danced for so long, why they didn't leave and she'd been laughed at.

She'd been told that you never get away. Once sucked in by the dark underbelly and the trouble it caused, you never got out. According to Sapphire and another girl, it just got darker. Things you said you'd never do offer more profit and you give up morals for money. But she knew she wouldn't. At some point, she'd have to get out because there was no other option. Not for her.

"I'm young. You've noticed that a time or two. It's a job because I need it for now. It's not my life and I don't ever want it to be." Just a job. She kept repeating it in her head. Louder each time his eyes became softer. Like he understood.

He didn't.

"What do your parents think of your career choice? I'm guessing they don't know." The one bear she'd hoped he would leave alone and he was poking it with a giant stick. All the while, looking as if he hadn't just completely flattened her with a single question.

"No. How is this research for a book?"

"I'm still figuring it out. I want to showcase the side we don't see."

"You planning to kill a stripper, make her out to be a young misunderstood woman that gets sucked into the belly of the beast?" Something flashed in his eyes, something she almost recognized but couldn't quite place. It wasn't anger, it wasn't fear but it was close. And she knew then that he'd been mad when he showed up, he'd had every right to be.

He had a right to be pissed now too. But whatever was lurking, he pushed down and shook his head.

"Ah, so you do know who I am." He looked smug about it, a smirk tugging his lips. "No. But I might hang on to that possibility."

"Hey! It was my idea."

"I'm technically paying you for it." The grin he flashed made a wave of awareness creep up her spine. And she shifted uncomfortably. She was feeling guilty already, still thinking of the money he'd already given her.

"I can't take your money. I'm sorry, this was stupid." She was about to leave, already grabbed the jacket next to her when their food arrived. The waiter blocked her exit.

And her stomach rumbled loudly enough for all of them to hear when the burger was placed in front of her. She flushed, kept her eyes downcast and cursed softly. Just her damn luck. By the time the waiter had been ushered away, she felt a shoe nudge her own.

"Hey,"

She still had time to get up and bolt. She could do it but she stayed for a minute, let him nudge her again, this time with his knee knocking into hers.

"I have a proposition." That made her eyes shoot up, lock with his. The mirth that danced in them was a relief and the smile he offered was a comfort. "Not quite _that_. But good to know where your mind was."

"You wish." She didn't know if the half grumble he let out was him agreeing or disagreeing and she didn't want to know. "What is it?"

"You don't feel comfortable taking that much money – or any money at all – but you need it for something. I can see that. So, I have some errands you could run, things you could mail. I don't have a yard or I'd hire you to mow it."

"Are you -"

"I'm serious. If you're interested, I could use a personal assistant. I just moved, things need unpacked and I'm on a deadline for my next book."

"You're hiring me?"

"You could even clean. I wouldn't protest."

"What?" She didn't know where this was coming from, why they went from talking about her job as a stripper to him suddenly offering her a job as something else. "Why?"

"Truth?"

"Preferably."

"You're smart. You have no trace of the boroughs, you're Manhattan but you're stripping in a lowly club, a dangerous one. Yes, I went for research. Yes, I still want to use you for ideas and information." He was watching her, almost begged with his gaze. "But I'm offering you a job for a couple weeks, it'll make it easier than meeting out and you won't feel bad about the fact that I'm paying you if you're also working."

"I...I don't know." She'd be in his home. She caught that much. She didn't know him that well. But on the same token, she hadn't known a soul in the club and she'd went at it head first anyway because she needed to.

She relaxed a little, enough to reach for a couple fries.

"I would probably need to know your name though." And the smirk was back, made her feel more at ease as he swiped a french fry from her plate.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, I'll pay you hourly. A set rate so it doesn't seem like such a large amount for something small." He seemed serious. And she was considering it. She was considering saying yes to a man she hadn't known for more than a couple weeks.

"I have two jobs." She hadn't meant to blurt that out. But now that it was in the open, it seemed important. "I uh – I stay pretty busy. I don't usually have time for anything else."

"You still haven't said no."

She was starting to hate that smirk.

"I'm only off on Saturdays. Sometimes a random day here and there through the week. But I have evenings free on nights I'm not dancing and days free on nights that I am. A couple weeks?"

"A couple weeks."

In her head she'd already agreed. As soon as she'd rattled off times she'd be available, she'd accepted. Three jobs. She'd have three jobs but she could do it. For a couple weeks. Fourteen days give or take. It couldn't be that bad. And he couldn't be any worse than the guys that grabbed her ass or slid their hands a little too far down when they shoved singles in the front of her panties.

"Do I have to tell you my name?"

"I'd like it if you did."

"Can we trial run it and see how it goes, maybe just agree on one day for now?" She saw him hesitate, but finally nod. She was sold. She still didn't understand why he'd offered but she'd do it. "Okay."

"I didn't even tell you how much you'll make an hour."

"Keep it reasonable. I don't need a handout." But she did. And she knew he was aware. Her own fault for asking for five hundred dollars.

"I'll mull it over, decide what I think is appropriate. I'm going to need your number."

"I'll call you." He raised a brow but accepted. "I'll need your address though."

"Hardly seems fair. The lady knows my name, my profession, my phone number and now she'll know my address. I know nothing." The teasing lilt in his tone had her lips curving. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled. "Oh, look, you do know how to smile."

"You know my profession." She was relaxed, at ease, smiling and biting into her fries with enthusiasm. Even gave a shoulder wiggle when _profession _rolled off her tongue.

Maybe he wasn't so bad. And maybe this would help. That's what calmed her. The fact that things could be looking up, that she wouldn't have to struggle so bad to meet the cut off notices. But only for a couple weeks.

It was better than nothing. But even though he'd hired her, shared a meal with her, she didn't tell him her name was Kate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N: I've been radio silent for a little while. I'll be posting on my tumblr more about why in the next few days. **

She was nervous. She'd been that way all morning. This would be her first day working for Richard Castle and she still wasn't even sure what that meant. What does one do working for a bestselling author? So she'd spent a little extra time on herself, trying to look a little more professional than usual. Light makeup, nothing heavy. Nothing that screamed _stripper._ And still she didn't know if it was okay. She hadn't ever had a job like this one. She'd been a waitress all through high school. Worked at a movie theater a couple times here and there, held a retail job at one point and dabbled in modeling but now she was used to stripping, used to it and that made her sick to her stomach. Made her question every single thing she'd tried on earlier.

She was still questioning it even after she'd finally told herself to just stop and pick something. Dark jeans, a nice green satin top. Nothing overboard. She'd battled the mirror, questioned whether to have her hair up or down. Half up is what she'd settled on. He mentioned unpacking boxes. She didn't want to deal with her hair in her face. She was still over-thinking it.

Even as she scrambled eggs in a skillet and had bacon in another, she was thinking too much. It shouldn't even matter. He was offering her sixty a day, more if she stayed more than a few hours. Something he'd decided was appropriate and she knew was not. But he hadn't backed down and as bad as she felt for taking it, she would because it was needed.

Her palms were already sweating and it had nothing to do with the heat from the stove. Her lip was raw from her abusing it repeatedly, biting and sucking as she worried over everything from how she would handle three jobs to whether or not the eggs would be enough to satisfy her nervous stomach. She was a mess.

"Morning, Katie." His voice startled her. Had her almost dropping the hot skillet, it clattered loudly against the counter, chipped the side of the plate she'd been scraping the eggs onto. He was never up this early. Not anymore. "Careful."

She waited a beat or two before looking at him, not ready to see the unkempt state he'd fallen into. The stained clothes, the unshaven face, the hair that always stuck up on one side because he just didn't give a damn anymore. It was always a punch in the gut so she put it off. Waited and prepared.

A silent deep breath and she locked down her emotions, ready to face him but he surprised her, stepped up next to her. And she didn't move, said nothing as he kissed her cheek but she noted that he'd showered. Smelled like the expensive soap her mother had got him for Christmas. When she looked, she took a step back, tried not to let the surprise show as she shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth.

He'd shaved. His hair was combed and his eyes were clear.

"Hey, Dad." She stared a little longer than she should have. A burst of happiness bubbled in her chest and she smiled brightly at him. "I didn't know you'd be -"

"Figured it was time to get up." _Time. _She shouldn't hate a word as meaningless as that one but she did. People kept telling her that she'd heal in _time. _Oh just give it _time. _Well it'd been months. Months and days and weeks and she still felt as if her life had been upended hours ago. Minutes ago. Seconds.

And she'd been relying on it, hoping that he'd get better, that he'd wake up and realize she was still here. She'd spent nights crying, begging him to just stop because she was still here and she'd lost someone too but he never remembered. He was always too wasted.

But now he stood in front of her and he was put together. He was sober, his eyes weren't as bloodshot or glassy and he wasn't slurring his words. It was the first time in a long time and she actually let herself be excited about it. She let herself be proud. She didn't mention it though, didn't say a word about the empty bottles that she knew still littered the living room or the full bottles she'd found next to the eggs.

"You look good, Dad." That was as close as she'd get to pointing it out and he seemed to accept it. If the nod and tight smile were anything to go by. "I can make you some breakfast, if you'd like?"

"That's okay, Katie. You look like you have somewhere to be."

"New job. Maybe. It's a trial run kind of thing."

"What is it?" She balked. Unsure of how much to tell him. He was her father and she wanted him to know. Wanted him to be part of her life but this was almost pushing it. She didn't know how to even explain what she was to Richard Castle.

"Personal assistant. Or like an office person. I don't really know yet." She wasn't sure either of those were the right answer, but he smiled at her and it was the first one she'd seen in so long that she almost choked on her eggs.

She didn't ask if he had a hangover, it was evident he was battling one and that was better than being drunk. She let it go. Pretended this was the norm for them and when she'd finished eating, she dumped her plate in the sink, gave him a hug and was out the door before either of them could mess up the illusion.

She took a cab, confident she could actually afford it after waiting tables the day before as well as covering for Esmeralda at the club. It put her working four nights this week and she hated that but she'd trusted the girl enough to give her, her number and she'd called frantic and crying. Kate just couldn't tell her no. So she'd gone straight from the diner to the club and her legs were feeling it even when she was sitting in the back of a taxi, staring out the window.

She avoided the awkward small talk with the driver, pretended her interests were in watching buildings go by. He didn't seem to keen on talking either so it worked out perfectly. The silence nothing more than an annoyance she would deal with, something better than the loud chatter of the subway.

She tried to be polite. She thanked him, gave him a tip even though he hadn't done much more than just get her from point 'A' to point 'B'. But she was in a good mood, despite the ache in her legs. Her dad hadn't been piss-faced, and that was enough to have her feeling a little lighter.

The lobby stunned her, the elevator had her pacing back and forth after she'd pushed the button a little too enthusiastically. And once inside, she'd started to feel the panic in her chest. Oh god, she was going to his _home. _And yes he was a bestselling author and he'd been nothing but nice to her but what if he'd been luring her in?

She was paranoid. She was sweating in uncomfortable places and for some reason, she was also excited. She had butterflies in her stomach, as if she was looking forward to seeing him. That scared her even more. As soon as the lift stopped and the doors opened, she bolted out. She forced her feet to keep going and actually set her gaze on the emergency stairs. But she didn't make it. The door stopped her, the one she knew was his. The address he'd given her. It looked nice, the whole building looked nice. And it reminded her of what she did for a living, how she spent hours in a room barely big enough for her and she shared it with the other misfits. The druggies and boozers. The lost souls.

She fit in there. She didn't fit here – not anymore – but she knocked anyway. Even if it was soft and barely there, she'd knocked. Kate Beckett was not a coward and she would do this. It was a good opportunity. The pay was good and he hadn't been too creepy about asking her. It would be fine.

Her palms were so sweaty, her stomach doing somersaults and when the door opened, she pasted on a fake smile. And then he was there, blue eyes, scruff and wild hair. He looked tired and a bit like a little boy that didn't want to be out of bed. He looked softer.

Maybe it was the shirt he was wearing. It looked worn, like soft cotton and she almost wanted to touch it. She resisted but her fake smile became genuine when he yawned before he could even greet her.

"Late night?"

"Writing. Sorry, come in." He stepped aside and she hesitated. No going back if she set foot in his place, there would be no escape. She stepped over the threshold and almost choked on her own tongue. It was big. And it was warm.

The colors were welcoming, soothing. The kitchen was the first thing she noticed and there were boxes on the counter. There were boxes over the couch too. The more she took in, the more she felt at ease.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." His voice was low, close and she spun to face him. Almost chest to chest, she stumbled a bit. She put space between them, she needed it.

She had to keep a clear head. She couldn't treat this job like her others. She couldn't use a little bit of tequila or vodka or anything she could get her hands on to deal with her nerves. She had to stay straight with this one.

"Yeah well, I'm still not entirely sure what you need me to do." Was her voice shaking? No. No it wasn't. She was imagining it. She had to be because he acted as if he didn't even notice. Those blue eyes smiling at her when he gestured towards the piles of boxes covering most of the living room.

"I'm on a deadline but just moved and I'll never get anything done if I spend all my time unpacking. I'll leave you alone if you prefer, or help. I -"

"I don't know where anything goes or where you want it." And she didn't feel entirely comfortable touching his things. What if she misplaced something and he couldn't find it and assumed she stole it?

"You can start in the kitchen, pretty self explanatory. Pans near the stove, plates above -"

"Yeah I can do that." Dishes she could handle. "Are you really paying me to unpack for you?"

"Amongst other things. I could use someone to mail a few things, pick up dry cleaning, maybe go to the grocery store and I'll print out my schedule, let you know everything so you can keep me on track. If you don't mind, that is."

"I don't." And she didn't. It wasn't a lie. If that's what he wanted from her, she could do that. She could manage. "I've never done anything like this and I'm probably not going to be very good at remembering your schedule or whatever."

He shrugged like he didn't care and part of her actually believed he didn't. She didn't move, didn't know how to even start. Maybe she should have swallowed a couple of shots before coming, just to loosen up. The thought was fleeting because within minutes, he had her elbow gently in his hand and was guiding her, taking her to the kitchen. Chattering about how he hadn't cleaned yet and that he was sorry for the mess.

It was spotless. Except for the boxes, all marked 'kitchen' in deep black sharpie with 'fragile' scribbled underneath. She let her fingers trace the words. She still had boxes in her bedroom she hadn't unpacked. And here she was, in someone else's home, about to unpack for them. He was still practically a stranger but then so was she and he was trusting her.

It was in his face, the smile he gave as if he was comforting a startled animal. She must have looked nervous. He was trusting her. Richard Castle was trusting her and she hadn't even told him a goddamn thing about herself. Technically, she was the stranger here.

"I'll be in my office," He pointed, she just nodded and silently vowed not to disturb him. "If you need anything just come in, even if you just want some help."

"What about the questions - the ones about me and the work I do?"

"Well at some point, I think you'll trust me enough to just tell me." She didn't understand. Not even when he walked away and left her in his kitchen. He hadn't even pestered her about her name this time. He just disappeared and she was left with boxes of kitchenware.

* * *

He'd given her space, he'd left her to do whatever she felt comfortable doing and when he heard the first box open, he peered through the half empty shelf wall and watched. She concentrated on the task. Her body still tight with apprehension. She was a gorgeous woman. The lines of her face connecting into one intricate portrait, her profile something models would kill for.

And he was going straight to hell for even thinking about any of this. But he felt better. He felt like keeping her busy, keeping her with him meant more time she wasn't stripping. She wasn't miserable here like she was at the club.

He had enough to keep her busy for a little while. He'd make up stuff if he had to. He was stalling his deadline as it was, so he could use her for at least a few weeks. And by then, he hoped he'd know more. He hoped she'd give him her story. It wasn't research at this point, he'd already been writing and he had a pretty good idea of what he'd wanted.

He watched her longer than he should have, smiled when she stretched up to stack the plates. She was tall. It was one of the first things he'd noticed. Those mile long legs were hard to miss when all she'd been wearing was a thong. He had to stop thinking of that. It was degrading. It was also hard on his libido. It kick started arousal in his abdomen and he couldn't think about it. Not when she was wearing an emerald top that brought out the mossy green in her eyes. Not that he'd noticed such a thing.

He forced himself to stop staring, made himself sit at his desk and break out the laptop. And once he started writing, he got swept away. Created things with his mind, with his words that others would escape into.

He wrote to free himself, to unclutter his brain and mostly because he enjoyed it. He liked characters, he was good at making up stories and it had become his bread and butter. Something to help keep food on the table for him and Alexis. The bubbly little four year old, the photo that smiled at him as he typed each letter. He knew he might be making a mistake, letting someone like – he still had no idea what to call her – in his home but for some reason, he trusted her. And that would either damn him or save him.

Or both. He'd seen the sin written in her curves, felt the heat of hell from her body. He cursed himself, stabbed the delete key and erased the line he'd just fumbled because he couldn't focus on anything but the fact that he had a stripper in his home and she was keeping her clothes on.

And that was when he looked up, saw her standing in the doorway chewing on her lip. How he was expected to behave like an adult and not a horny teenage boy when she did that, he had no idea. Because it drove him crazy, drew his eyes to her mouth and had his throat closing and body itching to mate with hers. He was an animal. And he hated himself a little for that.

"Uh – I finished the kitchen." She stepped closer and it took him more than a minute to figure out what she'd said. He hadn't realized he'd been writing long, looked at the clock and felt his eyes widen. Okay, clearly time flew when his brain was battling between focus and _her_. It'd been over an hour, almost two.

"Oh. Uh, okay. Just have a seat, I'm almost done."

"I can let myself out, I just -"

"You're leaving?" He didn't want her to go. Wanted to keep her just a little longer to try and get beneath her armor. He just needed to find a way in. He wanted to know her fucking name before it drove him crazy. "I thought I'd help you start the living room."

She didn't say a word, just nodded and looked anywhere but him. He saw the moment her eyes landed on the photo, the one on the filing cabinet behind him. He hadn't moved anything around. Hadn't set things up. It was all just thrown in here and he'd been meaning to move everything to hang up art on the walls but he'd kept putting it off. And she was frozen, her eyes locked on the photo and he didn't even turn to look. He knew which one it was. His little redheaded cherub holding his hand and walking beside him.

He remembered that day, it wasn't that long ago. She'd chattered the whole time, about her imaginary friends and the slide and how much fun it was to go fast. But he wasn't smiling this time, he was watching someone react to it. He kept his eyes on her as she squared her shoulders, defensive at first and then every ounce of it left in a heavy exhale.

"You...you're a father?" He could have joked. He could have asked how she knew that wasn't his niece or the child of a friend but the picture said it all and he'd never hide Alexis from anyone. He was so very proud of that little girl.

"She's four. Her name is Alexis and no, she's not here right now. I asked my mother to take her for a few hours. I like you but I don't even know your name and I'm very protective of her." He tried to word it carefully, keep it from sounding too harsh but he saw the way her eyes flashed. Just a brief moment before she'd schooled her features and raised a wall but he caught it.

"So are you just going to ask someone to watch her everyday that I'm here?"

"For now."

"Okay." And she dropped it. Didn't say another word. She just waited but she looked calmer, as if she were more at ease knowing he had a little girl. That wasn't something that happened often when he had a woman over.

He let her wait, saved his document three times just to be sure it really saved and to stall just a little. He wanted to know if she'd really wait. She did. She didn't move till he did and as soon as he stood she was rushing out ahead of him. She still wasn't comfortable, he could tell but she wasn't quite as jumpy. It was progress. Maybe he'd get something out of her.

As soon as he joined her in the living room, he was groaning. He covered it with a cough, tried not to stare as she bent over a box. He was trying to be a gentleman, tried not to picture her as the woman he'd met that first night with the heavy makeup and perfect bare ass. He knew that wasn't her but she made it hard. Because she was beautiful. She was sexy even with her clothes on and he was in so much trouble.

"So, where's her mother?" The question slammed into his chest, had him stepping back as if she'd just barreled into him and she didn't even notice. She was digging through the box with little trepidation, clearly she'd overcome her awkward shy thing she'd had going on just hours ago. "Sorry, that was a little personal. I'm sorry, forget I asked."

Maybe not. It had him smiling, it had his attention away from those jeans that curved perfectly over her ass and it had his brain functioning instead of his...

"We're divorced. The mother thing wasn't for her so I have Alexis."

"You didn't have to tell me that."

"It's called sharing, getting to know each other. I know you're not really familiar with the concept." He nudged her playfully, watched her lift a few books from the box and saw the smile tug at her mouth. More progress. "So the girl, from the club...the one close to your age?"

"Esmeralda. I don't know her real name."

"Of course not. What is she a year or two older than you, same age?"

"I don't know, a couple years older maybe. I think she mentioned being almost -" When she paused he knew he'd been had. She was smart, she'd caught him. And her eyes cut to his, an eyebrow arched and instead of anger or defiance, he saw something playful. "You're slick."

"Well I have to fish since you still haven't even graced me with your name."

"You already know I'm not old enough to strip there." It was the first time she'd ever admitted it and for some reason, it twisted like acid in his stomach. He'd been right, he'd known that but to hear her say it made it harder to ignore. She wasn't old enough. She was still so young. "Shit. I didn't – I wasn't -"

"You might as well just tell me. I'm twenty-six and you know I have a daughter, your turn?" He didn't think she was going to say anything, she just took the books and headed for the shelf but as soon as her back was turned to him, he heard the whisper.

"Nineteen." Fuck. Fuck she was a baby. What the hell was she doing tangled up in a club like Bottoms Up. "I need the money. We done sharing?"

"Yeah, we're done." For now. He'd wanted to add but kept it to himself. She was an anomaly. There was something about her. He'd be patient. He'd help her stock the shelves with his collection of books and make her some lunch before he sent her home.

* * *

Nineteen. It echoed in his head as he showered that night. It had kept him up long after he'd read Alexis her bedtime story. He was still battling it. The woman that intrigued him was still a teenager. That made him feel really old. And really dirty. He'd dreamed about her. He'd fantasized about the nameless stripper with the perfect body and those cute heart shaped pasties. He'd imagined her breasts in his hands, he'd let himself because it was okay, she was a stripper, the thing fantasies were made of but no. She was nineteen. She was not a stripper, she was a girl. One with problems. Serious problems.

He'd known that. He'd seen it and for some reason, he'd let it reel him in. But he'd still felt the lust. The craving deep in his loins. He was going to hell. He knew it before he'd even turned the water to cold. It did nothing. It chilled his skin. But it did nothing to the erection he'd been fighting since she'd accidentally backed into him when trying to inspect their hard work on the shelf they'd organized.

It was constant. His own penis betrayed him and even now he poked at it. Tried telling it to go away but then he thought of how she'd smiled, mumbled a quick apology with a flush in her cheeks and fuck if it didn't pulse right before his own eyes.

He slapped a hand against the tile of the shower wall, leaning heavily as he gave in and wrapped his other around the base of his shaft. He bit back a groan, stroked slowly. He shouldn't have but he did. He squeezed and twisted at his tip, closed his eyes and told himself to picture something else, someone else. He'd tried. Tried to focus on someone or something else.

But no. He heard the song in his head, saw her as she'd danced that very first time. The first time he'd seen her and even with the pain in her eyes, he couldn't stop. He let himself go. He let himself remember the perkiness of her breasts, the sway of her hips, the way she'd arched her back and crawled across that stage. He hated himself.

And he realized the moment he was too close to hold back, his hand pumping faster with the need of release, squeezing tighter as he pictured her. Her. God it hit him hard, had him doubling over as he came with a sharp grunt. The shower still pounded over his back. Her. He didn't have a name to let drip from his tongue. He couldn't even whisper it to himself. He didn't know it.

He'd just jerked off to the face and body of a nameless young woman in his employment. He'd pictured her as nothing more than a stripper and he knew better. The shame followed, the embarrassment that he'd let it get to this. No more. That was his one freebie but he wouldn't mess this up and he would not let his attraction for her ruin everything. She deserved better than being treated like a sexual object. She got that enough at the strip club and he would not be just another guy to ogle and try to seduce her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Castle is not mine. ****  
**

**a/n: I didn't forget! I just worked a 13 hour shift yesterday and then had a lot of homework that had to be turned in today so sadly this got put off. That being said, now it's update day and you can enjoy another chapter. :)**

She was late again. He'd be pissed. It was her fault this time. Her own stupid fault. She'd lost track of time. Actually it was Richard Castle's fault. Yeah, she felt better if she blamed him. The heavy weight in her chest eased just a bit because it was in a roundabout way all his fault. She'd wanted away from the mess at home, the fact that her father seemed to be drinking even more when she'd been so hopeful.

He hadn't even made it one day. That was over a week ago – when he surprised her at breakfast with sober eyes and combed hair. By the time she'd made it home, he'd been on the couch with a mostly empty bottle. She hadn't said anything to him since. A week since she'd told him that she was tired of trying so hard when he couldn't even go a single day without a drink. He hadn't even fought her, he'd just sat there as she shut down, as she cried for the father she lost the same night she'd lost her mother.

A week of balancing the diner, the club, and her third more enjoyable job. She _liked_ going. It had taken days for her to be comfortable but after a week, she could admit that it was her favorite job. It was simple, he wasn't demanding and he was still nice. It wasn't an act. He was genuinely a good guy and it made it easy to work for him.

No disgruntled customers, no greasy paws pulling at her underwear. And when she'd been late, he accepted her rushed apology and told her not to even worry about it. That it happens. He was too understanding and she was getting too used to it.

Vincent wouldn't be as forgiving. She'd never used her father as an excuse for being late even when most of the time, it was because of him. And she wouldn't use such a thing now either. Because it had nothing to do with him for once. This was on her. It was her responsibility and she'd lost track of time. She hated herself for it. For even stepping foot in that bookstore when she'd known she had to be early tonight.

She was so very very late. This wasn't something she could rush through, she couldn't throw on some makeup and heels this time and beat the clock. The clock had already beaten her. She was borderline three hours late before she even saw the dreaded alleyway door. Her heart was pounding. She was actually scared to go inside.

She thought of turning around, walking away and never coming back but she couldn't. Even with picking up a third job that paid more than it should, she was scraping by. A little more comfortably than before. She'd managed to find herself in her favorite bookstore for the first time in a long time and she'd spent more than she should have, browsed longer than she should have.

And now she was late. She was late but she had three books in her bag. Two penned by Richard Castle and a third that had just caught her eye and seemed interesting. She didn't regret buying them and maybe she should have but she didn't. The only thing causing the heavy pit in her stomach was the fact that she was probably fired or even worse, that she wasn't.

Three hours late and she opened the door, forced herself inside. No sneaking around it this time. She hadn't even made it down the short hallway to the dressing area before a hand wrapped around her arm, forcefully tugged her around.

"Fourth time." It was all he said. All she needed to hear because the look in his eyes was dark enough to have her knees trembling. Not that she'd ever show it. "You strip in five and there's a special guest waiting for _you_. He better leave happy."

His grip tightened, had her biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a wince. And then he shoved her away, sent her stumbling a few steps before she regained her footing. He was gone by the time she did. The only sign he'd been there at all was the lingering ache in her arm.

She was still rubbing at it when she dropped her stuff on the ratty old couch next to Esmerelda.

"Hey, you're really late."

"Yeah, I -" She glanced up, ready to spin some wild tale but swallowed her words when she saw the side of her friend's face. "What happened?"

It was red, angry and the bruise darkening beneath her eye had Kate reaching out to touch. She didn't like this job, she didn't like the people but she liked this one. And someone had hurt her. Fingers gentle, she caressed the swollen cheek.

"It's nothing. I'm just clumsy."

"We both know you're lying. You can trust me."

"You need to get undressed, get ready. I heard him say you're on in five." And the flash in her green eyes told Kate everything she needed to know even if her friend wasn't naming names. "Go."

She didn't want to. She wanted to take her and get the hell out but where would either of them go? They were in the same boat. Nothing paid enough. This paid better. No questions asked, no need for a name. But they couldn't turn him in and they could only hope no one else did either or they'd be out of a job.

So Kate left her alone, turned to the mirror to get ready and didn't say another word about it. Her chest ached with it, the knowledge that someone she actually connected with was hurt but she buried it. She didn't really know Esmeralda. Didn't know her name.

That kept coming back to bite her in the ass, didn't it? Like some twisted karma because she hadn't told Rick hers. A week of working for him almost every single day and he still didn't have a clue. She kept too much of herself locked away.

That was her burden. And it rested almost as heavily on her soul as the makeup she applied to her face.

It took her longer than five minutes. It took eight. But she was ready. The lace of her red bra was sheer enough to show more than she wanted but the money would be better. It always was when they got to see something they shouldn't. And they went crazy for nipple, maybe it'd make Vincent leave her alone.

It left a bad taste in her mouth to see herself in the mirror. But she swallowed it down and gave the battered woman on the couch, one last long look before she headed out. It always felt as though a piece of her stayed behind. This time more than ever.

She was stone cold sober. Hadn't had a single drop to drink even though the alcohol was in her bag, next to her books. She'd forgotten about it the moment she saw bruises on someone she actually cared for. And now she was sweating.

But her song was on and that was her cue. She didn't dance like she should have. She knew it as soon as she'd wrapped her legs around the pole. She wasn't as loose, she watched the audience too much, she felt everything. She didn't want to feel any of it. She knew her moves were jerky, short, but she tried. And apparently the men were too intoxicated to notice.

The money was still being tossed at her, shoved in her bra and she kept looking for him. Her eyes searched at the table he'd sat at but he hadn't been back. Not in a week. It'd be easier with him here, she didn't know what that meant. She didn't care to think about it but it kept her mind off the obscene twist of her hips as she crawled towards a group of guys waving paper her direction, the dirty stage scuffed her knees but she played the part.

She quirked a brow at them, gave them the 'come hither' crook of her finger and tried not to cringe when she felt the fingers slip below her panty line. She dropped her head back, rocked her hips forward just for show. It was only for show.

But that's when she felt it. Felt the twist of a wrist and the quick slide of a hand beneath her panties cupping her. The intrusion, the push of his fingers forcing inside. She shot up, straight as an arrow, scrambled away.

She was already breathing hard, couldn't get enough air and snapped her thighs together tightly as she pushed herself up off the floor. Her heart hammered, her throat tightened and she fled. She ran. She tossed money as she went, pulled it out of her underwear and just dropped it. Not caring where it landed.

That wasn't her job. That was not what she agreed to do. She didn't do that. She wasn't that. No. That echoed in her head over and over as she slid on her jacket. Her vision blurred when she grabbed her bag and she ignored every person that tried to stop her, tried to ask what happened.

She was out the door when he caught her. A hard clamp around her wrist that had her whirling and she was upset, she was pissed the fuck off and she was ashamed. She didn't care. She did not care anymore. About anything and part of her hoped, hoped he'd be mad enough to knock her around. She'd welcome it. Why not have bruises to match the wounds inside?

"Get the fuck off me."

"You didn't finish and that man is a friend of mine, Kris. He deserves to be treated well."

"He deserves to rot in hell." She was pushing him, begging him to hit her. He clenched a fist and she waited for the sting, for the blinding flash of pain. It didn't come.

"Take the night. Cool down. You'll realize your foolish mistake." He let her go and she stood there as the door slammed. She didn't understand why she wasn't sporting a mark similar to the one on her friend's face.

The tears came and she didn't notice. She numbed herself to it. Told herself that it was over, that he'd barely touched her. But that wasn't entirely truthful. He'd touched enough to leave her feeling violated. Enough to have her thighs clenching against just the thought of it.

She hugged herself, breathed in the scent of the fabric covering her. And a tiny semblance of calm washed over. She craved more.

* * *

Maybe that was why she ended up at his door. She wasn't thinking. Her feet were aching, her head was starting to pound and she didn't really remember how she got here but Kate still raised her fist to knock. She waited, told herself how stupid she was being. How he was in bed and she was an idiot for even coming. He was her boss. He'd hired her. He didn't know anything about her. They weren't buddies, they didn't do this.

She was mid-turn to leave when the door opened. Mid escape when she caught sight of him through watery eyes.

"What's wrong?" Not a 'hi' or a 'what are you doing here' just concern for her and worry in his blue eyes.

He pulled her inside before she could say a word. Not that she'd planned to say anything. She didn't even know what she was doing at his home, let alone in it. But his hand was warm, she could feel it through the jacket. Warm against the ache that still lingered from someone that wasn't as gentle.

She shivered hard. Her whole body shook with it and kept trembling after it passed. She must have looked like a mess. He was eying her, helping her to the couch and before she even managed a small squeak of protest, he'd coaxed her down.

"Easy, just take it easy. Did something happen?" His question hit her, twisted in her stomach and she shifted uncomfortably. She could have lied. She'd lied to him about a lot of things, shared only half truths or just kept it to herself.

But there was something in the way he looked at her now, something in those eyes and the hard line of his mouth. She nodded. The first brick fell away, left nothing but dust as it hit the ground. And that had her heart racing, alarm bells ringing. He was too close and she liked it.

"I – I'm sorry. Oh god, your daughter -"

"She sleeps like the dead, don't worry about it. What happened?" He was acting too much like a friend. He wasn't.

Or shit, maybe he was. She lost track of how many people she used to consider friends, but they weren't. They didn't stick. He was the closest thing she had besides a drugged up stripper and neither of them knew a thing about her. But she couldn't tell him this, she couldn't explain that some guy had her this shaken and scared.

She hadn't even realized how scared she felt until he sat down next to her. She jerked, her legs pressed tighter and she felt so stupid. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew that and still she shied away. He was patient, he was kind and he was looking at her like he'd just seen inside her head, like he'd been there when it happened.

"Someone hurt you."

Yes. She wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him everything. Yes someone had hurt her. Someone had murdered her mother, someone had taken everything and left her with nothing but a drowning father. Someone had left her heart in pieces. Someone had taken advantage of her situation and some fucker thought it was okay to shove his fingers inside – she couldn't even finish the thought before she shivered again.

"I don't know why I came here." It was probably the most truthful she'd ever been with him but she avoided his gaze, watched her hands tremble. "I should go."

"No. You're shivering, I'll get you some clothes and something to drink but just stay." He was already walking away, she could have slipped out and probably would have but he turned back, palms raised as if he was afraid he'd scare her. "Please stay."

So she stayed, perched on the edge of his couch with her jacket around her and her bag still hanging off her shoulder. She hadn't even thought before showing up, he could have had company. Female company. She knew he wasn't dating anyone, she'd been around a lot over the last week, they'd talked. He'd mentioned his divorce, how he hadn't been in a relationship since.

But he was a man. A very good looking man and he could have had company. Or he could have been up late with his daughter. She didn't even know what time it was. Her eyes searched for a clock, found one after a few seconds and she felt guilt settle on her shoulders.

It was after one in the morning. She'd woke him up, invaded his home because why? Because she'd been scared? Because something happened and she just wanted to feel calm. He made her calm. She didn't pretend around him and so much of her life was just her faking it, faking everything. So she stayed. Wrapped in a jacket he'd given her the first time he met her and she waited.

He came back with clothing. She didn't have the heart to tell him she wasn't actually cold and she figured they smelled like him, so she reached as soon as he offered.

"Just a shirt and some sweats. They'll be big but I found the ones with a drawstring."

"Thanks." She stood, ignored the pulsing ache in her feet and dropped her bag to the floor. It hit heavily, the weight of the books a loud thunk that startled her. She'd forgotten. "I usually change, or at least remember my clothes."

She'd left them. She'd been in a rush to get out. She'd needed air. She still needed more air. But it was better here. Except her brain had vacated and nothing but emotion was fueling her moves, had her shrugging one arm out of his jacket. And then she heard him curse. A low hoarse 'fuck' that snapped her out of it. He'd seen her in less, but not like this. Not in the privacy of his own home and her face flushed red.

She felt the heat slam through her, grabbed at the jacket and closed it over the front of her. He hadn't seen much. She'd guess that by the way his eyes were shut but his hands were clenched so he'd seen enough.

"I don't want to wake -"

"Through there." He pointed in the direction of what she'd assume was his room. She'd only used the bathroom upstairs on days that she worked here. But it was late and he had a four year old asleep.

On shaky legs, she walked to the doorway and slipped through as if it wasn't awkward for her to do so. As if she wasn't in just her stripper wear and in his bedroom. _His bedroom_. She tried not to gawk. She did but she failed. The walls were still bare, he had boxes in here too and it actually eased the tightness in her chest. Reminded her what a procrastinator he seemed to be. She kept her eyes off the bed, even after she noted it was messy but of course it was, he'd been asleep and she'd woke him.

She found the bathroom and stepped out of her heels first. The sigh she let out was almost indecent but became a startled gasp when she saw the huge mirrors, the ones showing her how much of a mess she really was.

Mascara and eye shadow smeared over her face and her nose was red from crying. She didn't even remember crying hard enough for that to happen. Her cheeks were still damp with it though. Her hair was in tangles and she looked like something you'd find on a street corner somewhere.

Kate wanted to throw something, break the glass, shatter the image. It was hard to resist, especially when there was so much in the spacious bathroom that would be heavy enough. A can of shaving cream sat by the sink and she almost grabbed it. She stopped inches away, her fingers stretched for it but then she thought of him, how he'd opened his home to her. The sleep and confusion on his face when he'd seen her tonight.

She wouldn't ruin his bathroom. No matter how much she hated herself. It took her a long time to change. She battled with it in her head on whether to just slide the shirt and pants on over the skimpy underwear or to strip them off. And then she thought of that guy, how he'd touched them and there was still money sticking out of her bra, reminding her of all of it. She stripped bare.

She scrubbed her face until it was red with irritation but the makeup was gone and her gaze locked longingly on his shower. She wanted to erase the prints left behind, wanted the feeling of fingers between her thighs gone.

Instead she slid into the shirt, smiled at the symbol across her chest. The fabric was too big, it hung loosely but she knew he'd picked it in hopes to cheer her up and it worked. For just a moment, she was Batman. He was right about the pants being too loose, even when she'd tightened them they still hung low but the shirt was long enough to cover if they slipped.

Her hands stopped trembling. Her stomach still felt nauseous and she was still bouncing between anger and tears but the shaking subsided. And her brain was functioning well enough for her to wrap her discarded underwear in the jacket. There was no need to embarrass herself further.

She carried it carefully, with her heels dangling from her finger and she only hesitated once. When she made it back to the living room and saw him sitting with his head in his hands, she paused. He looked troubled like that. The softness gone, the smirk hadn't appeared once, the gentle smile was absent and her heart flopped to her toes.

This was what she did, what she was good at. She ruined things. She was the reason he looked like that. She made a vow to at least make him smile before she bolted.

"Thank you, again, for the clothes." It took her a few extra steps to get back to her spot on the couch, her legs almost tangling in the extra fabric of his sweatpants when she shoved the jacket and her unmentionables inside her bag. Huh. It was _her_ spot. It was the one she always sat in. When did that happen?

"No problem. I got you some water."

"Got anything stronger?" She was hoping to lighten the mood. Her attempt failed, he stared at her with his mouth set in a firm line.

"Someone did something to you and I don't know why you're here either but I hope it's because you feel safe enough to trust me."

"Rick,"

"Did someone – did they -" His eyes darted up to the ceiling, his hands gestured wildly and she felt the lump form in her throat. "I don't know what I'm saying. You probably wouldn't be here but I have to know. Did someone force you to -"

If the topic didn't have her curling in on herself, she would have laughed at a writer's inability to find words.

"No. No, I wasn't – he didn't." Apparently she couldn't find them either. But she was just a stripper. How hard was it to say the word 'rape'?

But now she thought about if she'd stayed. If she hadn't bailed. _No_. No what ifs. She lived with enough of those.

"He?"

"A guy got a little too handsy. That's all. I freaked and ran." That was all she'd say. She hadn't even intended to say that much but she barged in on him in the middle of the night. He deserved something. But he didn't believe her and she couldn't blame him. She was lying to him.

She was used to handsy men. And he knew that.

"Okay."

"I uh, I wasn't kidding when I asked for something stronger. You're being a bad host." And this time she was rewarded with the hint of his lips tilting.

"You, my dear, are underage."

"Somehow you don't strike me as a guy who walks the straight and narrow." And apparently she was right because he was up and headed for the kitchen before she could even point out that if he was opposed to serving her, she technically had her own alcohol.

Kate made herself comfortable, sank back into the couch and tucked her legs beneath her. She didn't know what she was doing. She needed to go home. He had a little girl to take care of, he didn't need her leaning on him too.

But she was and he didn't seem to mind so much when he brought back a glass of wine. _Wine_. Of course, she should have known he'd pick something classy. Something that smelled delicious when she pressed her nose to the rim and inhaled. It was a deep red, tart on her tongue when she took a sip.

"Wine is good for the nerves or so my mother says." His glass met the coffee table and she kept hers cradled in her hands. Something to keep her grounded. "You aren't shaking as bad."

"I'm okay." And she was. As long as she didn't think.

"You just needed my excellent company at...one-thirty in the morning?"

"Okay look, I know I'm not very open." She ignored his scoff, kept her eyes on the liquid in her glass and just let it out. "I don't trust people, I push people away and I know I haven't given you any reason to be nice to me but you are. And I like it. I needed it. I don't have any friends, not anymore so I'm not used to this and I really have no idea how I ended up here. Feels safe here."

"You are safe here."

"How'd you know my favorite color?" She'd shocked him. Spun the conversation too fast but she didn't like feelings. She didn't do well with them. "You told me it was purple and you were right."

"I just knew."

"You were guessing?"

"Pretty much. But I was right. I should get points for that." He was smiling and it made her feel good that she'd accomplished that. "You can try to guess mine if it makes you feel better."

"I think I'll pass."

"Now I'm usually the life of the party, trust me, but it's late and I've been on a writing binge, plus Alexis -"

"I'll go, I know I woke you."

"You always interrupt? I was working up to the 'if I'm tired, you're tired and you shouldn't be out this late' speech." His eyes were still shadowed, even with the playfulness breaking through. And she wondered what he could see in hers. Were they as broken as she felt? "You can stay."

"Alexis. You said you were protective, that you didn't even know my name."

"Both of those are still true. And I'm still insisting you stay. You showed up shivering and in tears, you're in no state to be walking around out there."

"I could take a cab just fine." But she couldn't because most of the money she'd earned, she'd thrown back. She had some but she'd spent quite a bit on the books she'd indulged herself with. "And I have to go, there's something I have to do."

"It's already morning. Just a few hours and you were supposed to be here by eight anyway. Doesn't make much sense to go home and come right back." He had a good point.

"My dad needs me." It was the first time she'd ever mentioned any family to him at all and she caught the surprise that flickered over his features. The slight twitch of his brow. She was being too open.

"Okay, then we can work now and you can go before Alexis gets up. Take the day off." He was already up, already headed toward his office. She could have pointed out that he'd been ready to sleep just minutes ago, that he had altered his schedule just to keep her around because he felt sorry for her, could have but didn't.

She'd stay and help organize his office. Help him hang artwork and put the desk in just the right spot. And it would keep her mind off the club. She wouldn't think about how mad Vincent would be or what he'd do. She'd be home in time to clean up the mess her father left, and she'd have a day off to sleep.

Or to read one of the books tucked away in her bag. She'd decide later. Taking another drink of wine, she got up and trailed after him. She'd put off thinking, she'd put off going back to her shitty life for just a couple more hours. What would it hurt? She usually didn't make it home from the club till four or five anyway.

She'd rather be here than there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Not owning Castle.**

**a/n: Bonus chapter this week! I read through this one and realized it's more of a filler and I'm not making you guys wait two weeks to read a filler...so enjoy the extra chapter. I'm also maybe just posting this in my excitement for tomorrow being tattoo day with my friend.**

**For the ever lovely jam821 since I kill you with gifs.**

He woke abruptly. It wasn't a calm floating feeling that had him slowly realizing he needed to open his eyes. No. It was a small squirmy body on his chest and tiny fingers prying them open. He didn't have a choice. His little redheaded wake up call was smiling at him, with tangled hair in her face and mischief in her eyes.

"Mornin' Daddy!"

"Good morning, Alexis." He gave her a minute, just one and then he grabbed her, lifted her up like he was about to play airplane but he wasn't. He dropped her heavily on the empty side of the bed and she giggled as she bounced.

He was up before her laughing subsided, stretching with a yawn.

"Come on, Alexis, we can't spend all day in bed. Get up, lazy bones." He watched her struggle to walk across the mattress without falling. Didn't even bother to tell her not to do it, she would anyway and when she was on the very edge, he steadied her.

She was already reaching, her fingers stretched and he knew what she wanted, obliged silently by turning his back and gripping her legs when she landed against him. He hoisted her up, smiling the whole time as she wrapped her arms around his neck and exclaimed in his ear: "To the park!"

"In our pajamas?"

"No, silly." He carried her to the living room, dropped her on the couch just to hear the giggles again. He lived for her smiles and laugh. Even after four years, he wasn't used to seeing her every day, always felt like it was some dream that he'd wake up from.

How could a perfect little girl like her exist? How had he become a father? Okay, well he knew _how _but it still stunned him motionless when she smiled at him. He was definitely wrapped around her finger and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Is your fwiend coming over?

"Friend. What friend?"

"Grams says you have a fwiend." He didn't know what to say, he didn't want to lie but he'd been keeping Alexis away because he didn't want to deal with questions. He didn't want his daughter to be around someone he hadn't really known.

He knew more now. He didn't know her name, didn't know where she came from or where she lived but he knew she was smart. Her intelligence had shined blindingly only a day ago. They'd spent it stocking bookshelves.

She had a wide variety of book knowledge, poets, authors and they'd ended up discussing Hamlet for an hour. William Blake for a bit after that and then she'd rambled on rather openly about a class she'd taken in college. So he knew she'd been in school at one point but the hurt that flashed immediately after she'd mentioned it had told him that she no longer attended.

He knew she had a father that she took care of, even though he didn't know what that meant. But it helped with her story. Perhaps that was why she stripped. She'd been more open, ever since she'd shown up at his door in the middle of the night looking scared and lost.

He wanted that story too but he'd wait till she offered. So he had no clue what to tell the curious blue eyes looking up at him with so much trust.

"Uh...more of an employee and no, it's just you and me."

"What's a empwowee."

"An. It's 'what's an employee' and it means I pay this person money to come over and do things. Like unpack all of our junk and dispose of the boxes."

"Oh." Alexis sighed and shrugged a shoulder. A move he was sure she'd picked up from him. "Can I pway with them?"

"Maybe soon." He shouldn't have said that. He knew as soon as it slipped out because her eyes lit up and she beamed as if he'd just given her the best news ever.

He should not have said anything. He didn't even know if his employee liked kids or if she'd even want anything to do with his. He'd started thinking of her as 'his' instead of as a stripper. She was just his. _His_ employee._ His_ friend. It wasn't about possession, he didn't own her. It was about her slowly fitting into his life in more ways than he'd originally intended.

In an odd way, she really was his friend. She listened when he spoke, her eyes didn't glaze with disinterest. It was as if she genuinely wanted to know what he had to say. Even when it was completely over the top and ridiculous.

He was always happy to see her and failed to ignore the way his chest squeezed when she smiled. He was already addicted to that smile, tried his best to make it appear as often as possible. And he told himself he only cared because she needed it. She needed someone to show her that life didn't have to be lived in the dirty underbelly, that she could come topside and be successful.

But he was lying to himself. He liked her. He actually _liked _her. He wanted to be the only one to make her smile like that – the bright bold beautiful smile that had her eyes softening – and he wanted to take her somewhere. Somewhere she wouldn't have to deal with whatever put shadows beneath her eyes, whatever had made her show up at his door in tears.

He wanted to take her away from all of it. He wanted to keep her safe. Oh, he was so fucked. He needed her name.

* * *

Kate didn't know why she kept dreaming about it. She wasn't sure but she'd woke sweaty and terrified every morning. She blocked it, tried not to remember the push of greedy fingers. And most of the time she succeeded. Until she slept.

She'd peeled out of her shirt and got in the shower. And stayed under the brutally hot spray until her skin began to boil. She wasn't just a stripper anymore. He'd had no right to touch her and she hated that she remembered it so vividly. She wasn't someone's whore. She was a personal assistant for a bestselling author and that meant something. It had to. It had to mean something or she'd lose herself completely.

She ignored the more risque items in her drawer, in her closet and picked comfort. She didn't even glance at them, didn't think twice. A pair of worn jeans, a Nebula 9 shirt and her chucks. That's who she was. No heavy makeup, none at all and she left her hair in soft waves instead of the big barrel curls she used for the club.

It was only two days ago when she'd found herself at the loft. And just thinking about it helped. He helped whether she wanted him to or not. He had. He'd been a friend. He'd kept her mind busy, he'd let her clean up and then he'd altered his own schedule just to fit her in.

She was smiling at the memory of arguing with him, telling him to move the desk a little to the left because it wasn't centered and him trying to say that it was fine. She'd dropped her end. Left it right where _he _wanted. And then he'd changed his mind. Told her it needed to be moved _a little to the left._ All with that cheeky smile. He'd made her smile on a night when it shouldn't have been possible.

And just the thought had her feeling better.

Even as she found her father at the kitchen table with a plate of eggs and a mug that reeked as though it held more alcohol than coffee, she was still smiling. She joined him, she didn't have anywhere to be and she was ready to end the silent treatment she'd been giving. It was childish. It wasn't helping anything.

"Eggs look good." He looked up at her as he took a bite, just as stunned as she was that she'd actually spoken.

"Nothing like your mother's." If he hadn't taken a large gulp from the cup, she could have let that one go. She could have told herself that he was finally opening up but she watched his eyes, saw them close down. She was his daughter and she couldn't break through.

"Mom was a fantastic cook." She waited, hoped he'd take the bait. Instead he hummed at her and she broke. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She wouldn't want this."

"Katie,"

"Dad, I don't know how to help."

"I don't need -"

"You do. We could try to -" The mug slammed down, startled her into silence as her eyes darted to his hand. He was squeezing it, his knuckles white. She'd never feared her father, knew he would never hurt her but she was scared _for_ him. "Dad?"

"I'm fine, Katherine." He never used her full name. That was her mother's thing, not his. She was always Katie. Always. Even when he was upset, she was still Katie and that's what had her shaking her head, disagreeing once again.

"You're a drunk. You've surpassed dealing with grief and become a full blown alcoholic and you know it. You can't even look me in the eye because you know I'm right." And in less than five minutes, her mood was ruined. "I want my dad back."

She left him at the table. Ignored what sounded like a strangled sob and headed back to her room. She fought tears, wouldn't let them come and it hurt, physically hurt to swallow the lump in her throat but she did it. She'd wanted a day. One day with him to be normal. To just be Katie and he'd dashed every hope she'd had left.

She slammed her door, hated that she'd reverted back to her rebellious days when that was her way of showing anger. So many door slams and her mother had always waltzed right in, told her she was being childish and most of the time, she was right. But she'd been young. It was hard to believe it wasn't that long ago. Even in college, she partied, stayed out too late, dated the wrong boys. She still excelled, she was still smart enough to know when enough was enough.

But none of that mattered anymore. She reached for her bag, the dusty messenger style was still her favorite. Even if it had seen better days. There were still tread marks from when it'd fallen off her motorcycle and she'd accidentally ran it over. She was more careful with it now.

Inside were the things she found important. So she grabbed it, slung it over her shoulder and headed back out the door she'd just slammed. She couldn't stay. Not when he was simply going to spend the whole day drinking. She didn't need to watch as he roamed from room to room or as he headed out to a bar for the day.

She wouldn't do it. She was tired of it. Exhausted by the day to day of everything. She paused in the living room, next to the phone. She stared at it and cursed herself for even considering it but she reached before she could stop herself.

He wasn't the fixer of her problems and yet, she dialed Rick's number and listened to the ringing. He was becoming a real problem and she couldn't make herself let him go. He got too close, he poked at things until she shared and she didn't like it. But she did. He made her question everything.

When he answered, she could hear the smile in his voice and the distant tiny voice asking him who he was talking to.

"It's me."

"_I know. To what do I owe this pleasure?" _She bit back a smile, told herself she was being stupid for even doing this when he was clearly having a day with his daughter.

"Do you need me to do anything today? Maybe run to the post office or something?"

"_Did you really call because you want to work? Today is Saturday."_

"I was – I was going to be out anyway, I just thought I'd – nevermind." Fucking idiot.

"_Excuse me?" _Fuck. She'd said that out loud.

"Shit, sorry! Not you. I just...okay, let's start over. I'm about to leave but I wanted to talk to you." She swallowed the nerves, spat it out in a rush and hoped he didn't read too much into it.

And then he sighed and she knew he had. She heard the small voice again, a soft _"Daddy who is it? Can I say hi?" _and she found herself smiling into the phone. Kate hadn't met his daughter but she seemed adorable. She only heard his mumbled reply, couldn't make it out and part of her almost wished he'd let her say hello.

And the other part of her was relieved that he didn't.

"_What did you want to talk about?" _She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him she'd just had her heart stomped by her own alcoholic father.

"It's been about three weeks and you said you would only need me for a couple -"

"_Are you quitting?" _

"No, no! I just...I really like working for you." Her fingers gripped the phone tighter, afraid of what he'd say. She didn't really want to think about the day he told her he didn't need her services anymore. What would she do then?

"_I like having you around. And uh – I'm still pretty behind and my publisher is still calling everyday to hound me so I might need you to stick around for a bit longer. If that's okay?" _

"Yeah, that's okay. That's good." She held back, stopped herself from jumping up and down. Richard fucking Castle wanted her around. He didn't see her as a piece of meat, he treated her like a person and that felt pretty damn good.

"_Good. I don't mean to cut this short but I have a little one demanding to be taken to the park."_

"I understand." She'd only wanted to hear his voice and that made her stomach nervous. She didn't understand that.

"_I'll see you soon." _

"Wait, I wanted to say thank you." Kate didn't go into detail, simply bit her lip to keep from spilling her guts and hung up before he could say anything more.

But her gratitude covered many things from him not giving up on her, to him hiring her just because he knew she needed extra money, to the fact that he didn't shut the door in her face when she'd woke him up at one in the morning.

She felt a little better after talking to him. Her chest felt lighter. One day, she'd tell him everything. Maybe. She'd give him her name, soon. That much she could do. He'd been nothing but a gentleman, nothing but trustworthy. So she'd tell him soon. No, that wasn't good enough...she'd tell him the next time she saw him. It made her nervous to think about it, to imagine him calling her Kate. But it'd be better than his frustration. He hid it well but she saw it. He didn't understand why she didn't tell him when she knew so much about him. But she hadn't at first. Not really.

She'd known his name, his profession but she hadn't known him. She knew more now. She knew he was kind. She knew he was a father and that his little girl lit up his whole world. It was obvious in the way he talked about her, in the amount of photographs he had scattered around. He was a very proud dad and that made her like him even more.

Oh. _Oh. _She liked him. When did that happen?

She shook it off, told herself she was being ridiculous and continued out the front door. But not before she'd grabbed her helmet. She'd take her motorcycle for a long ride, try to clear her thoughts. Separate the issues with her father from the weirdness she felt for a man she'd only known for a short time.

But the moment she felt the purr of the engine between her thighs, she'd known exactly where she was going. And it wasn't far away, it was close. A place she'd used to frequent with her mother when she was younger.

That was how she ended up under an old oak, in a nearly abandoned park with his book in her lap and his words spread before her. She read instead of thinking. She soaked up page after page because it let her get away, it helped her drift from her own problems into someone else's issues. Maybe one day, she'd also tell him that his books helped.

They helped her calm down. They helped her clear her thoughts and made anything seem possible. Even with the macabre. She found herself in love with his writing, in love with the way he penned sentences together in humor and mystery. And she loved the justice.

She reveled in it, felt her heart pump faster when the killer was found. That's what she wanted. She wanted that for her mom. It didn't make any sense. Random gang violence didn't make a bit of sense. Not to her and she wasn't a cop. She wanted justice though, she wanted the son of a bitch that murdered her mother to pay.

She envisioned it with each page she read. She found herself playing detective, piecing together little clues she found hidden in paragraphs and trying to thumb the killer before the book revealed all the answers. It was almost fun, throwing herself into the story. Now she understood why her mother was reading one of his books, he was good at his job.

She needed to be more open with him since he was giving her an opportunity to stick around. It wasn't a two week deal anymore and being a stranger wouldn't be an option. She couldn't avoid every question. She couldn't hide everything. She just needed to find a place to start. To ease him into it.

Maybe she'd start with his books, tell him she enjoyed reading them. No, he'd get cocky. She'd figure it out, find a way to show him he could trust her too. She wondered briefly if giving his clothes back would be a sign, but she disregarded the thought when she recalled how soft the batman shirt felt against her skin.

Besides, he hadn't asked for it back. And she hadn't washed it. She didn't know how to do this. How do you explain how fucked up you are to someone? No, how do you explain it to someone that you just realized you don't want to lose?

That was what terrified her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. **

**A/N: Put this off a few days because it's a two chapter update. So you'll be getting the next chapter Saturday. I figured you guys wouldn't mind a bonus chapter this week. You'll see why. **

**Don't kill me. **

Richard Castle was not an impatient man. He had a four year old. Children demanded patience. And he wasn't normally one to be upset if somebody was running late or it took several extra minutes for the barista to make his coffee because the place was slammed. He just wasn't the type. He understood that things happened. But he was concerned by ten o'clock.

Where was she? She'd agreed to be here at seven tonight. She had specifically asked for evening and he'd even let Alexis stay. He'd been thinking she might open up a little more – tell the young one her name – or she'd completely freak out. He'd prepared for both. But he didn't feel like she was a threat to his daughter and he was tired of making excuses for his mother to keep her for a few hours. It was too exhausting and apparently the woman knew more than she let on since Alexis had kept asking when his friend was coming over to play.

He'd told her soon every single time she'd asked. Including the five times today, right up until bedtime. He'd tucked her in, read her a book, then gave his own version of a fairy-tale and stole several cuddles before she'd finally fallen asleep. And then he'd found himself on the couch. Waiting on his...something, she was something and he just needed to figure out what.

He hadn't moved. He watched the door as if that would make her appear but she hadn't. It was after ten and he didn't know where she was. He didn't like it. He didn't like the feeling in his chest, the way it twisted as if he'd been stood up for a date. Maybe that was his own fault. He'd cooked her dinner. Well it was for all of them, but he'd set a plate out special just for her and poured an extra glass of wine. Also for her.

It was still on the counter. And she still wasn't anywhere to be seen. He thought about calling her but he wasn't sure what he'd say if it wasn't her that answered. What if it was her father? What if she had a boyfriend that lived with her?

He highly doubted it but he didn't _know. _He couldn't even ask for her by name, he'd sound like an idiot and what if her father wasn't capable of answering the phone? He didn't know anything about him. Just knew that she mentioned taking care of him. That could mean a variety of things.

But where was she? How long was he supposed to wait? He'd been asking himself that more and more lately. How long was he supposed to keep this up? He didn't actually need her as a personal assistant. He got by without her just fine. And he'd lied about being behind on his book. He was actually now ahead of schedule. He just hadn't wanted her to disappear.

He couldn't stop typing, writing down ideas on napkins, post-its, anything he could find. He'd added a mysterious new character and she took up a lot of his time. He could write about her for hours, going around in circles about all the things he imagined. But the real life inspiration had him dangling by a string as if she had no idea what she was capable of. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she had no clue that she'd tangled him in knots.

She probably assumed he didn't even care. He did. A lot. And that bothered him. It drove him crazy because at the moment, he had no fucking idea where she was. On a broader scale, it irked him for many other reasons. The biggest being he still had to refer to her as 'his assistant' because she didn't have a name. Not one other than _Krissy _and there was no way he'd use her stripper name whilst having a conversation.

He waited on the sofa until almost eleven. And then he gave up and went to bed pissed off.

* * *

She had plenty of time. It wasn't even six yet and she'd already showered, slipped into a pair of black pants and a comfy sweater that left a shoulder peeking out. One thing she loved about working for Richard Castle was that she wasn't wearing only underwear or her waitress uniform and an apron. He didn't assign a dress code and for that, she enjoyed her job even more. She'd added light makeup, twisted her hair into a side braid and called it good. He never made her feel like she didn't belong – even though she really didn't – and if he had problems with her attire, he kept them silent. It was nice that she didn't have to fuss, that she could pull on anything and it would be okay.

She'd been headed out the door when the call came. The one that thwarted her plan of stopping to indulge in a milkshake before an evening with good company. She could do that now, stop for food or a shake, she always had a little bit left in her pocket. But someone needed her help, the call was a shaky voice, one that begged. That was the only reason Kate had agreed to swing by Bottoms Up.

She'd given her number to Esmeralda in case of emergencies and this sounded like one. So she went to the club before heading over to the loft for the evening. She'd left in plenty of time and she knew if she ended up being just a little late that he wouldn't care. Although now she most likely wouldn't get that milkshake.

She'd planned to just help out a friend and then be on her way but as soon as she walked in, she realized that wasn't going to happen. She was greeted at the door by apologetic green eyes and Esmeralda mouthing the word 'sorry' as Vincent stepped out of his office.

"Krissy, a minute." He waved her in as if she'd already agreed and she almost protested but there were new bruises on the redhead, tears on her face and Kate felt her stomach roll as she stepped forward.

Even though his eyes were dark, mean, he'd never hit her before and she walked into his office with only that small comfort in her head. He seemed to only leave hand print bruises on one single stripper and she didn't fit the bill. She didn't know if that was actually comforting. What was he capable of? Why was she in his closet of an office on her day off?

Her palms grew clammy when he shut the door. The nausea was like a tidal wave and she wanted to run. Everything felt wrong.

"I'm off today." It was barely a squeak, one he seemed amused by if the smirk was any indication.

"I have a proposition that I think you'll be interested in."

"I only strip." As if that wasn't degrading enough when he was the one leering. His gaze became cold, like ice against her skin and his head tilted in a way that had her taking a step back.

"Yes. Well that's what they all say when they start, it's not a big deal. I need something delivered to a friend of mine and you have the free time available to make sure it gets to him." His fingers landed on a box, cardboard, innocent looking. She knew better.

She wasn't stupid. She'd seen boxes just like that come and go and they were filled with more powder than one person could snort.

"Not interested. I have somewhere I need to be." She needed out of here, needed to be on her way to the loft to spend time with the boss she actually liked. The one that didn't scare her. She didn't wait for his reply. She'd already headed for the door, had her fingers wrapped around the knob when his voice settled heavily on her shoulders:

"Six hundred just for delivering a box." The bastard knew exactly how to get to her. She knew she should walk out the door, she knew there was a low she shouldn't stoop to and yet, she swallowed roughly and looked over her shoulder.

"Six?" It was wrong. It tasted vile on her tongue and what the fuck was she thinking? Her parents had been lawyers. She'd been pre-law herself and yet she was eying a box of cocaine like it was her next paycheck.

Because it was. As soon as she'd hesitated, she'd agreed to be a mule for him. Only once. She'd only do it once and she could make the drop quickly, head straight over to Rick's from there. Unless she got caught. What happened then? It wasn't like Vincent would be there with bells on to save her. But the longer she eyed it - the more she questioned - only solidified that she was going to do it.

"I'll give you half now and he'll give you the rest." She wouldn't have believed him but he was already pulling out three crisp hundred dollar bills and laying them down atop the box.

She dropped her hand from the doorknob, ignored the voice in the back of her head that was screaming at her to walk out. Instead, Kate nodded.

"Okay. What's the address?"

"There should be a cab outside, they already have the address. When you get there, go inside and ask for Remington. Hand over the package, collect your money. Simple as that." And then she could go wherever the hell she wanted.

She cradled the box when he handed it to her, accepted the weight of it as if it wasn't filled with something illegal, something that would get her serious jail time if she got caught. But what were the chances of being busted when she was getting in a car that would take her straight to the drop off point? She actually had no idea on the odds but she hoped they played in her favor.

The first three hundred joined the thirty she had in her front pocket and she was already splitting it into categories of what bills it could count toward and how much she could save. With all three jobs plus this one little side one – she could probably save most, if not all of it. That would help. Immensely.

And that was why she'd been sucked into it. That was why she carried it protectively out the back, into the alley and sure enough a cab was parked there. Her heart was racing when she climbed inside, beating faster when the man didn't even acknowledge her or turn the meter on. What kind of cabbie was he? Someone Vincent knew? Had to be.

Just like this friend of his that she was delivering to. Oh, god. What was she doing? She'd become a drug mule for six hundred dollars. She checked her watch after the first several minutes in the musty smelling backseat.

She was already late. It was after eight and now she was stuck in traffic and had no idea where she was going. Guilt was already at home in her chest but it built a little more knowing she was missing a job she enjoyed for something like this. For the box that rested on her thighs. She wasn't sure what to do with that or how to handle it. It ached bad enough when she thought of how her mom would react, about the fact that she'd used something similar to that against her father a few days ago and here she was.

She was just as fucked up as he was. Different vice but just as buried. Alcohol had become his comfort and hers came in a variety of ways. Money, obsessing over bills to the point of getting involved in illegal activities. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to back out. She wanted to climb out of the cab and head straight for the one place she felt completely comfortable.

And she was just about to open her mouth, about to tell the driver that she needed to be sick. Anything to get him to pull over but he already was. And then she really was going to be sick. There was no question of if, it became when. Her stomach was churning, aching.

She didn't know where she was. There was no way she was made for this, she had nothing to protect herself with if something happened and she wanted to run. She'd leave the box and the money and just take off.

It didn't work that way and she knew it. She didn't even open the door – someone did it for her and she stepped out as a knee-jerk reaction. The man was huge. All muscle and beady little eyes that made her clutch harder at the cardboard in her hands.

"Remington?" It was the only thing that came out other than a soft grunt of discomfort when the mountain gripped her arm and tugged her toward a door that looked awfully similar to the alley entry at Bottoms Up.

Another shady establishment. One among many in her great city, she wasn't naïve. New York City was known for its underbelly, the things that took place there and the people that thrived in such conditions. She'd never had that sugarcoated, her parents had made sure she knew the dangers.

But Kate had never thought she'd witness them up close and personal. Yet here she was, being dragged into darkness.

Her eyes adjusted to the haze, her ears heard every small sound. From what sounded like a man panting to the drip of a leaky pipe. The scent in the air had her biting back the bile that rose in her throat. It reeked of sweat and sex. And the fear in her gut tripled.

What had she gotten herself into? The answer came too quickly, with just the rounding of a corner and two steps through a door. That's when she panicked.

That's when she knew she'd been set up. As soon as she saw his face. The leering smile and the dead eyes that belonged to the man she was terrified of. The one that filled her dreams. She dropped the box, frozen for just a split second and then her heart, mind, and body were chanting _'run, run'_ and she listened.

She tried. She tried to double back, her feet carrying her quickly. But the door slammed in her face and two large hands gripped her biceps. She thrashed, kicked but it did nothing. The beast holding her wasn't even breaking a sweat. And the man that caused her so much disgust, the one that had sent her running from stage and straight to Richard Castle's seemed amused by her struggle.

"Krissy, is it?" Kate stayed silent, stopped punching at an immovable chest. It only made her hands hurt. "I believe we weren't properly introduced last time."

"Go to hell." Her skin crawled at just the sight of him. How calm he seemed as he poured a drink. She had to get out of here, she had to find a way out. Fear was fueling her every move, her whole body trembled with it. She should have run. She shouldn't have agreed to anything.

Her throat was closing, her breathing thready and by the time he stepped closer with glass in hand, she wasn't sure she was breathing at all.

"Nobody insults me. Vincent likes you, so I'll try not to damage the goods too much." The only hope that gave her was that she'd leave alive. Her eyes filled with unwanted tears when he calmly sipped at his drink, she knew what he was planning.

She couldn't let it happen. She had to fight.

She waited till he leaned closer and then took the opportunity. She threw her head forward as hard as she could until she felt the pain of impact, heard the crunch of bone - not hers. A short victory before the monster that held her arms tossed her like a rag doll, and all she felt was the bright flash of pain lance through her shoulder when she landed.

She didn't have the chance to get to her feet. She barely scraped herself up to her knees, didn't have a chance at all when the blow came. It hit her hard, knocked her back to floor with her ears ringing and her vision dancing. Head splitting, dizzying pain. She tasted blood on her tongue, fought to steady herself, to find something to use as a weapon.

There was nothing. Nothing but the echoing sound of the cries she let out when the first boot kicked at her ribs, the way she curled in on herself as if that would be enough. It wasn't.

She couldn't see, tried to crawl away but that led to more. To the ache at the base of her skull and her chin slapping hard against the floor. She heard a scream, wondered if it was her own. And then the heavy press of something against her back, something was pinning her.

"Now I know why Vincent likes you. You have a temper."

She wanted to get up, kick, yell, punch but her brain wasn't connecting. Her body wasn't responding. All she managed was a strangled _"fuck you"_. Everything hurt.

"I could take you, fuck you any and every way I want." A boot nudged her ribs, made them scream as it pushed until she rolled. "But you'll barely make it five steps before you're unconscious and I like my girls awake for the main event."

She barely heard him, the black spots were dancing in front of her eyes with every pulse of pain in her head.

"Get her out of here." It was a blur. His bloody face gave her a hint of satisfaction before the agony in her shoulder intensified as she was jerked to her feet. She stumbled, fell back to her knees only to be hauled up again. "We'll continue this another time."

She took a step, shoved at the man _forcing _her to walk. Her hip popped, a sickening sound as she limped but she wouldn't look back, she wasn't going to let them show her out like they weren't the reason her vision was still doubled and all she felt was pain. She walked herself out with slow dizzy steps, holding onto the wall. With a fear that it was a joke for them, a game. That before she made it, someone would grab her, drag her back to hell.

No one did.

* * *

Kate made it more than five steps. She'd made it into a taxi, argued with a driver about her destination not being a hospital. She was determined to make it somewhere safe. It almost hadn't happened, she'd had to fight to get the address out correctly. Stumbled over it twice and couldn't form sentences coherently.

And she didn't remember anything after that. She didn't remember anything at all until she was slumped in an elevator. Not the pain, not the looks she received, or if she'd paid the driver. Had there even been a driver? But the pain was back full force, with a vengeance that had her biting back the rolling protest her stomach was making.

She had to make it. A few more steps. Just a few more. Several more. The doors opened and it seemed too far, the hall stretched endlessly. Almost as if instead of getting closer, it was slipping further away, like something out of a dream.

But she made it. Finally. She was so late. She was beyond late. Exhausted. She slumped against the door, slapped her palm against it and had the apology on her lips. It took all the energy she had to fist her hand, to knock her scuffed knuckles against the hard surface. She waited, waited, needed to just sit down. She wouldn't be so dizzy if she could just -

The door opened, she lost what little balance she had and collapsed. Her shoulder and ribs screamed. She heard herself cry out as she landed against something warm, something that smelled good. Oh. _Him_. And then there was nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Okay...so I know I said Saturday but I forgot that I have a baby shower to attend that day. Which works in your favor since I'm posting this today. This is one of my favorite chapters for this fic so I really hope you like it. :) If you reviewed the last chapter, thank you so much and I'll work on replying to those reviews today. **

He hadn't managed to fall asleep yet. He was too busy staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out if he'd done something to scare her away. Again. It wouldn't have been the first time. Maybe he'd said something. No. No, he hadn't even pushed for her name lately. And then he wondered if maybe something happened. What if he was feeling pissed off and slightly hurt and it wasn't her fault?

Something could have happened with her father. He hadn't thought of that. But where was her mother? Did she have one or was it like the case of his absent dad? There were too many holes, too many variables he didn't know. He tossed restlessly, rolled to his side and made himself try to sleep.

But shutting his eyes did nothing to shut off his thoughts. And the longer he thought about it, the longer he let the questions fester, the more anxious he became. He tried fluffing the pillow but it didn't help, tried scooting to the middle of the bed but that didn't do anything either and just when he flopped over to the opposite side, he heard something.

A soft thunk. Like something hitting the floor. Alexis. He was up in a split second, made it out of his room in less but he didn't cross the living room, didn't make it to the stairs. Because he heard it again. And it wasn't coming from above. It was at the door, against the door.

Not a knock but something was moving, something was making noise. The scraping sound made him contemplate calling the cops. This had bad horror movie written all over it and then there was a soft succession of something that could maybe be considered knocking. If one had superhearing, that is.

But he was close enough that he caught it. And instead of heading for the phone, he opened the door. Maybe that was dumb, maybe it could have led to something bad but he didn't even have the time to second guess himself. There wasn't even a second between wrenching it open and the startled gasp. He knew that face, knew the body that collapsed.

He reached on instinct, barely caught her beneath her arms before she hit the floor. He hurt her, he knew it the second she let out a startled cry but he was still reeling, not understanding. Blood he'd seen blood. She was _bleeding_.

She went limp. He felt the warmth of her face press against his chest, could feel the heaviness in her limbs and knew he needed to get her inside. His heart was hammering in his rib cage as he lifted her, cradled her by tucking an arm behind her knees. He was cautious, easy as he could be, afraid of hurting her more than he already had. She didn't even respond. There was nothing, no groan. Was she even breathing?

Yes. He felt it, the light puff of air on his neck as he carried her through to his room. He wasn't thinking, didn't even bother with turning the light on. He should have called for an ambulance, something. He wasn't sure how bad it was. He didn't even know but he'd seen the blood on her face.

Fuck. What the fuck had happened to her? He didn't think twice – didn't really think at all, it was all pure instinct - laid her down on the edge of his mattress, kept his hand beneath her head.. He was careful when he perched next to her and stretched for the lamp. He needed the soft glow of light when he leaned in to inspect the nasty looking abrasion on her forehead. It was still bleeding, a slow trickle. Anger welled up inside him, hot and red when he saw the bruising, the purples and blues spreading over her cheek, down her jaw, to her chin

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her neck, felt the large knot hidden in her hair. What the hell had happened to her? He needed her awake, he needed to get her to a hospital. Head wounds weren't something to be messed with and she had more than one. But he didn't want to leave her, not even for the few seconds it would take to run out and grab the phone. Not when he'd been so mad at her all evening and now he was pissed at himself. He'd been moping and nursing hurt feelings and she'd been...he didn't know what she'd been doing but it led to this.

It led to her being bloody and bruised and yet she still showed up. She still came. He didn't know what that meant but he knew he had to do his best to help her.

"Hey," He bit his tongue, his chest tightened. He couldn't coax her out of it, couldn't call to her because he didn't have a name. She was nameless to him. A face that he knew, a soul he cared for and still she was such a mystery that he wasn't sure what to do with her.

He'd wanted to help. He wanted to get her out of the mess she found herself in. Because her eyes haunted him and she didn't belong at some strip club. She pushed and sometimes – even now as his chest ached and his heart raced with fear – he wondered if he should have just left her alone.

It was a fleeting thought. One little blip as he stared down at the tear stains on her cheeks, the smears of blood as if she'd tried to apply pressure but hadn't managed anything more than just streaking it over her forehead.

Why hadn't she just told him her goddamn name? He'd asked, all but pleaded. And now he needed it, for her sake and his own. He needed to reassure himself and instead he was stuck without a clue. He wouldn't even know what story to feed the paramedics. How was he supposed to explain that he knew her but didn't know her name? How was he supposed to explain a young woman being bruised and bloody in his bed? He could list her favorite color, a few of her nervous habits, talk about how bright she was but that was the extent of his knowledge.

"Hey," He tried it again, a little louder than a whisper this time. Her eyes flickered but didn't open, and he brought his hand to her cheek, the side that wasn't darkening with every minute that passed. "Open your eyes."

A groan. He was rewarded with a pain filled groan and it was better than silence. Way better than her not making any sound at all. He caressed her skin, stroked a thumb over the curve of her cheekbone to wipe away the smear of black grime. She felt warm. He figured that was better than cold. She had soft skin. It was wrong to notice, not the right time to even think about it but he couldn't help it. It was like satin beneath his fingertips.

"C'mon. That's it, wake up."

She mumbled something he didn't understand. But her lips were moving, her lashes fluttering. And then he heard the word she was chanting. _Safe_. _Safe_. _Safe_. It became clearer, more audible, each time it slipped off her tongue.

"Yeah, yeah you're safe. I'm here. Open your eyes." He got a flash of them, a spark of whiskey and clover. "No, no keep them open."

"Safe. Need...safe."

"Hey, hey look at me. You are safe." He was growing frustrated, felt like it'd be easier if he could just call her by name, ease her discomfort in that small way. It burned in his chest, right alongside the anger and swallowed up his voice until nothing was left but a whisper. "Nothing can hurt you here. Jesus Christ. What happened to you?"

She was trying. He knew that but he needed her coherent. It was bad enough that he hadn't immediately hauled her to the hospital, he needed her awake. She got quiet, her breathing shallow as she murmured and this time when he caught the flash of her eyes, they stayed open.

He watched her watching him, felt when she lifted her arm but she barely had it half way to her head when those eyes filled with tears.

"What hurts?" He'd guess her head. Quite a bit judging from the bruise marring her face and the knot he could feel at the base of her skull.

"Everything." Her voice was nothing more than a whimper. One that tightened around his heart. He helped her as soon as he realized she was trying to sit up. He pulled gently, tried not to worsen anything that possibly caused her pain. "Head."

He steadied her when she swayed, never took his gaze off her as she pressed a palm to her temple and mumbled about being a little dizzy. He'd bet it was more like a lot dizzy.

"We need to get you to a hospital." He didn't expect it, the way she reached and bit back a cry as she gripped his shirt. He felt the desperation in her fingers, winced just a little because she pinched skin. She looked so scared, as if he'd threatened her. She was small. He hadn't really taken note of how small she really was. He'd always seen her as tall and she was but like this, she just looked scared and small. It didn't fit what he knew about her.

"No. No hospital. M'fine."

"You passed out as soon I opened the door. You're not fine." Her eyes weren't as hazy as they'd been just seconds ago and that was probably a good sign but he wasn't a doctor, he had no idea what was going on or what had happened.

"Please." One whispered word had his resolve shattering to pieces and he knew before she ever dropped her gaze, before her fingers uncurled from his shirt and her palms opened against his shoulders that he was doomed. "Please."

His hand had a mind of its own, skimmed down her back as if to comfort and soothe. He realized with a shocking punch that he'd never touched her. There had been the occasional brush of hands when they dug through boxes but he'd never purposefully sought her out and she'd never done the same. It was new.

And if she wasn't so battered, so weak that it seemed as though even keeping her head up was a war, he would have enjoyed it.

"Okay. For now, but I know you have a concussion so anything changes, you start acting weird or drooling or anything and deal's off, got it?" The side of her mouth that wasn't swollen tilted, he felt her chuckle but it turned into a whimper.

"How bad is it, how bad do I -" She wasn't looking at him anymore, she was staring at her hands on his chest as if they were foreign objects, leaving her questions unfinished. He waited for her to pull away, to jerk back as if he'd burned her.

She didn't, one hand stayed while the other dropped. A careful descent that made him question if something was broken. How badly was she injured? It seemed pretty bad and he'd make sure she knew but he tried to ease the tension that was building, lighten the mood to see if she was as okay as she wanted him to believe.

"A scratch, hardly noticeable."

"I don't think..." She paused as if she struggled to get the words out. "Ruined your shirt."

He hadn't noticed, he'd been too concerned with her but he looked down now, saw the crimson staining the white fabric. It was smeared over the pillow too. Both things were replaceable. She wasn't.

"Let's at least get you cleaned up a little and you can tell me what the hell happened." He contemplated bringing the first aid kit to her, saw she was still unsteady with something as simple as sitting up on the bed but the lighting was better in the bathroom.

He learned in that moment just how stubborn she could be. As soon as he was standing, she was pushing herself up. He was going to help, had intended to wrap his arm around her waist to help her stand but she was on her feet before he could, swaying like a tree in the wind and gripping his nightstand as if it would stop her knees from buckling.

"Whoa, easy." He caught her, kept her there against his side and took small steps to test the waters. To see if she could make it.

She could. She was stronger than she looked. He maneuvered her, she let him but she was tough. Didn't complain about him being her leaning post but it was written on her face, the fact that she was determined not to be as weak as she felt. He wondered silently if she'd ever let him in, let him see her.

He cut the thought short, didn't let it continue. It would make things worse so instead of dwelling on it, he guided her into the bathroom. And when she tried to stand on her own, he put an end to her foolishness by lifting her effortlessly up onto the counter.

A quick gasp made him apologize. A soft sound that made him regret it. She could have broken bones and he'd just grabbed her up. He was making more mistakes with her than he cared to count. It ached in his gut, churned with a sickening twist that he'd been angry at her while she was...what – fighting for her life somewhere?

"I should have been more careful before just hoisting you up. You okay?"

"M'fine." It was short. Sharp. He'd heard that tone several times from her. It screamed that she didn't want to be pushed but that was too damn bad. He was in a pushing mood.

"Clearly. What happened?" He kept it soft, tried not to challenge her just yet. Even gave her some space by bending down to grab the first aid kit and some washcloths from beneath the sink. And to his surprise it worked.

"My boss." It came out softly, as if she didn't want anyone to hear but he did. And the bottle of antiseptic slammed down on the counter next to her thigh as his vision went red.

"He did this to you?"

"No." Her brow furrowed, made her wince and she looked so confused that he wasn't sure she was actually coherently capable of having this conversation. Her words slurred occasionally and everything in him was yelling that he needed to get her to a doctor.

"No?"

"My day off."

"I know. I know it is. You have another job, day time and that's why you said you'd come over at seven." She grew quiet and he let her. She wasn't as with it as she pretended so he didn't say anything more. He let his words sink in and hoped they helped her clear her head.

He found the ibuprofen first, popped two out of the bottle and filled a small plastic cup he kept next to the sink with a little water. He knew for sure that she was in pain and his first priority was to help. He had to nudge them into her hand before recognition sparked in her eyes. Under different circumstances, he would have joked about taking drugs from someone without asking to see the bottle but not now.

A whimper drew his gaze up to her face, away from the cloth he'd been wetting with antiseptic. She'd set the cup aside - empty now - pressed her fingertips against her swollen lip and pulled them back to study the blood.

So that was where he started. He leaned in close, not caring about personal space or the fact that they didn't do things like this. They were...maybe friends. He'd never stand between her thighs and hold her chin in one hand to tilt her head. He'd never lean so close that he could smell her. But he was now. And she smelled of sweat, dirt and blood.

He cleaned her chin first, careful of the bruising as he stroked softly with the cloth to remove dried blood, some still wet. He kept an eye on the gash over her temple, made sure it wasn't bleeding anymore before he gently dabbed against her lip.

It was purple, swollen, she'd split it open again when she took the pain reliever and he pressed as easily as he could in hopes to stop it from bleeding more. He didn't know how long it had taken her to get from wherever she'd been to his door. He didn't know how long she'd been in this shape or worse.

Her sweater was ripped on one side, her pants covered in some type of grime he couldn't identify. But he didn't ask, wasn't sure she'd be able to answer. So he kept the pressure on her lip, hoped it wasn't too much and then knew it was when her sigh floated warmly over his knuckles as he eased up.

His gaze didn't leave her mouth – a dangerous place if he wasn't so focused – and he kept his touch soft this time, sweeping over the battered tender flesh. He was making a second pass to clean away the last of it when he felt her lips move, heard her murmur.

"Kate." His fingers froze, his eyes darted up to meet hers. She was staring at him, watching him and her eyes were clearing. The confusion not as prominent and it didn't register until she softly spoke again. Stronger this time. "My name is Kate."

_Kate. _It wrapped like a loop around his heart, squeezed tighter and tighter as it played on repeat in his brain. And yes. Yes, it fit her. It was perfect. Feminine and sharp.

"Kate." He liked the taste of it. The way it slid easily off his tongue. It was so much better than Krissy which never fit her_. _It was better than anything he could have guessed for her. He stared too long, just watching as she attempted a smile, quickly decided it wasn't a good idea and touched his arm instead. He understood. He got it. "Kate."

"Yeah. Beckett."

"Kate Beckett?" She gave a small nod as if it pained her to do so. He didn't step back, didn't leave her personal space, just slid his hand into hers and gave a small informal shake. "Nice to meet you, Kate Beckett."

He didn't ask why she told him. _Finally_. She didn't offer. But there was trust in her eyes, something honest and bright. His heart was still constricted, pounding. And the pull she caused within him was as strong as a magnet. A need to have her closer, to feel her mouth against his. He probably would have. If he hadn't just cleaned the blood from her lip, if it wasn't so swollen. He might have kissed her just because she trusted him enough to share her name. He was in _so_ much trouble with this woman_._

He let go of her warm fingers, busied himself with rinsing the rag with water.

"Is that short for Katelyn?" He didn't think it fit and when she slowly shook her head, he smiled. "No. Doesn't sound right. Maybe Katherine?"

"Yeah. I uh – I was a student at Stanford until January of this year." Her words were clear, not slurred and he knew she was getting her bearings. And apparently she was choosing this moment to be open.

"Kate, you don't have to tell me."

"I know." It was soft but she hissed sharply when he touched the tip of the wet fabric against the cut on her temple. "And I'm not. I don't think I can tell you all of it right now anyway but you deserve to know more."

Full sentences. Coherent ones. That's what he focused on. Her words would distract. He'd think about what could have happened to her and pause and forget what he was doing if he didn't find some distraction.

"Okay. Just don't...don't stress yourself right now."

"I was pre-law. Family thing. I excelled."

"Not a surprise. You're extremely intelligent." She scoffed as if she didn't believe him, her eyes closed when he cupped her cheek. "You may strip for a living now but I knew there had to be a story, some reason why you weren't top of the class somewhere."

"A bunch of stuff happened. Things change and then nothing is what you thought it would be." She was killing him and didn't even know it. The sadness that wrapped around each syllable she spoke was so abundant that it bled into him, had him wanting nothing more than to just hug her. Hold her close and tell her that things would get better.

But he didn't. He wouldn't. What if he hurt her? He cleaned the last of the red from her face, inspected the bruising. He prodded gently to check if he could feel anything abnormal but she pulled at his wrist until he stopped.

"Hurts."

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

"You have a knot on the back of your head too but it wasn't bleeding. I haven't checked anywhere..." He didn't know how to finish that thought, wasn't sure where he'd ever intended to go with it. But his eyes darted down and he guessed that gave him away.

"Ribs. Shoulder. Hip. Got tossed by a mountain."

"A mountain?"

"Built like one." Her words were clipped again, her sentences fragmented. He knew he'd do better with waiting. So he did. He helped her down, cleaned up the mess they'd made as she limped back into the bedroom.

Kate. Her name was _Kate_. He was taking her to a hospital.

* * *

He was cold and still a little mad at her. It was freezing in his office at night, the pillow wasn't very comfortable and he kept fighting to keep the blanket over his feet which was saying something because he was cramped into a ball on the small sofa. He'd given his guest the bed. He wanted to be close in case something happened. He could peek through and watch as she slept. He hadn't offered the guest room and he tried not to think too much about that, tried to tell himself that it was strictly because he didn't want her accidentally waking Alexis.

But then why wasn't he up there in the soft bed with the thick blanket and luxurious amount of space? Because he needed to be here. She'd yelled at him, tried to leave. He had to be here and make sure she stayed, make sure she was okay. And it only took him a few seconds to travel into his bedroom to wake her. He'd already done so once. Just to make sure she wasn't dying. Or in a coma. He didn't even know if he was doing it right, if he should be letting her sleep at all but she was exhausted.

She'd fought hard tonight. Once to survive and get away and then again when he told her they were going to the hospital. She'd won that argument and he still didn't understand how. He'd been set on taking her, worried something more could be wrong than just the marks on her skin. But she'd been immovable and he'd almost picked her up and made her go until she brought up Alexis.

So he kept vigil and woke her every few hours just in case. They struck a deal, he wouldn't make her go if she promised to tell him if something felt worse or if she just didn't feel right. Although now, he thought maybe she'd been lying when she agreed.

She'd woke each time he said her name though, it never took more than that. She wasn't resting very well and she'd asked him to set an alarm the last time he made her sit up and drink a little water.

He'd seen the bruising that time - on her shoulder, the angry red puffiness of it. The shirt he'd loaned her had slipped, shown him a wide expanse of creamy collarbone, dipped down low enough to have his imagination running rampant and then his eyes had caught those marks and his mind was still reeling. A mountain.

She'd said something about a mountain. And he was guessing she meant a man. A man touched her, hurt her. It burned inside him like an acid that threatened to consume. She was nineteen. Who the fuck beats up a nineteen year old girl?

His thoughts were interrupted by a strangled sound. Almost a whimper but louder, not quite a sob. Something in between and he was tripping over the blanket and almost ramming into the shelf before he could slow down. He didn't even try. He sprinted into his room. He hit every light, bathed it in brightness.

She was tossing, clearly in pain but it was the fear on her face - her eyes still closed - that had him reaching for her. He gripped her uninjured shoulder, she tensed and tried to jerk away.

"Kate, Kate it's me. It's Rick. Come on." He squeezed gently. Repeated her name softly until her eyes opened.

Terror. There was absolute terror staring up at him and then she was crashing into him, clinging, her face in his chest. And he held on, he held her as the tears soaked through his shirt. She was breaking and the only thing he could do was offer a place to let her.

"Same guy. Same guy. It was the same guy. Setup."

"What?" He didn't push her back, he leaned in and rested his chin against her hair.

"It was a setup. It was the same guy that got too handsy in the club. I fought back. I did but he had this huge bodyguard. I fought back, I -"

"Hey, I know you fought back." And just to prove it, he pulled her hand away from his shirt, showed her, her own scraped up knuckles.

"I thought I'd die in that room. But they just let me go, let me walk out like it was nothing more than a business deal. I couldn't go home. My dad – I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you came here. I was...honestly, I was pissed that you didn't show up when you said you would. And then when you did - you really scared me."

"I should go. Alexis shouldn't find me here in the morning, she doesn't know me."

"I know you and you're not going anywhere until daylight. Even then, I'm calling for a car to take you home." He could feel her protest as it built in her chest, as she pushed at his and abandoned the comfort he was willing to give to cradle her knees. She didn't hide her wince very well and he guess her ribs were aching.

"I'm okay." There were still tears leaking out to defy her.

"You're not. But you will be." He'd made her show him her ribs before he'd given her a shirt to sleep in. He'd poked at them, made her slap at his hands until he finally dropped them. It was a lot more touching than they'd ever had between them and he wished it were different.

He wished she wasn't hurt, wished she hadn't just woke from a nightmare. He wished he could hold her without questioning whether it was okay or not. There was still so much he didn't know about her.

"I will be."

"Think you can sleep some more?"

"Maybe. Yeah. I think I can try. I have work tomorrow." He paused, watched as she avoided his gaze.

"Which work? You quit the club, right?" She didn't answer, she tried to bite her lip but then hissed in pain. "You didn't."

"I need the money, okay? I have bills that need to be paid and groceries that have to be bought or I don't eat. Not all of us can write some dumb book and become rich." It was a defense mechanism with her. He'd noticed it before. How she'd lash out when cornered. So it didn't hurt...much.

He kept his tone soft but he didn't touch her anymore. "I could give you a raise."

Her shoulders dropped, along with her face as if she realized he wasn't taking the bait. He wasn't going to argue with her about it. Not this time.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't but I'm serious. I can pay you more."

"This job isn't permanent. You said just until you get caught up and if I quit stripping, I lose my main source of income. Being a waitress doesn't always bring in tips. People are rude and I've applied many places but nothing works out."

"Waitress, stripper and a personal assistant. Hell of a workload." She shrugged, didn't even let the discomfort show and he knew they were done for the moment. "I...understand. I don't like it because – because you're nineteen years old, Kate. Serving alcohol, going around topless for money and now you're here with bruises and a busted lip, cuts and scrapes."

"I have a dad. I don't need another one."

"Dammit, I'm not trying to be. I'm trying to be your friend." She jerked as if he'd shocked her. Physically shocked her with a small startling electric current.

"Is that what we are?" It was barely a whisper, he barely heard it. That was when it hit him. They had never really referred to each other as...anything.

"I...think so. I trust you, I like you. You seem to be okay with being here and trust me enough to tell me things now, to show up when you don't have anywhere else to go. Even when you really should have gone to a hospital instead."

"I think you did a good enough job. I'm fine now." He didn't dignify her with a response but she was doing better. She wasn't swaying, wasn't fragmenting her sentences or not making any sense. She was clear, carrying on a conversation. "But I guess that does make us friends. Or some convoluted form of the word."

"We're intricately coiled?" He knew which definition she'd meant but he wanted to give her a hard time, maybe test her brain just a bit. Just to be sure.

"I meant complex and difficult."

"I know. I'm gonna stay till you fall back asleep if that's okay?"

"Creepy but okay." He didn't point out that she'd relaxed as soon as he offered. He wouldn't do that to her. Not this time. Instead he got up and turned out the lights, left a lamp on at her request and then sat in the chair in the corner. Maybe it was a little creepy.

He watched her, her name still bounced around in his head and when she finally drifted off he regretfully went back to the cramped couch. He'd never get any sleep.

* * *

Kate woke to stiffness, a pounding in her head that was reminiscent of a bad hangover. Until she tried to sit up and it became a roar of pain. A really really bad hangover. She remembered what happened. She remembered waking up with Rick's face looming over her. Everything between was a blur. Black spots that made her head ache worse when she tried to force it.

It was early, the dawn barely breaking and she tossed back blankets, cursed herself for being weak enough to stay. She hadn't even fought him on it. She needed to go. But she made his bed first or at least tried to. Her shoulder throbbed and her hip screamed so it was a poor attempt.

Her face felt hot, swollen and she knew it probably was. She didn't need to look but she wanted to see how bad it really was hours after the fact. She borrowed his bathroom, locked the door just in case he happened to be up and slowly stripped out of his shirt. She was frustrated by the third time she tried to fold it.

Her clothes were still dirty but she tugged them on, fought back the nausea that rolled in her stomach at the smell that lingered in the fabric. It came back to her in a brief flash. Just the smell, the grime of the alley beneath her hands and knees as she emptied her stomach.

At least that happened before she'd made it here. She hoped she hadn't thrown up in front of him but if she had, she knew he was too much of a gentleman to bring it up.

Her hip wasn't bruised but it ached, her ribs were a rainbow of color, so was her shoulder and even after she covered them up, she wasn't brave enough to look at her face. It would be the one thing she couldn't hide. It took her several minutes before she lifted her gaze.

Almost half of her entire face was red, purple, blue. Her cheek was swollen, her lip was the size of a ping pong ball. It was so distracting that she didn't even notice the small gash until she pulled her hair out of her face. She didn't know what she'd tell her dad. But she couldn't tell him the truth.

And it was time to stop putting off the inevitable. She found her shoes tucked neatly by the chair and knew he must have put them there. She slipped them on, padded through the open doorway to at least tell him bye. But he wasn't at his desk. No, her gaze found him and she felt her heart quicken.

He was curled up in the most uncomfortable looking position she'd ever seen, fast asleep. He looked almost as bad as she did. Dark circles under those blue eyes that she liked so much more than she should. Friends. He'd insinuated that he thought of her as his friend. And for some reason she needed to thank him. She needed to do that for herself.

He didn't take her to the hospital, he didn't push. Well, okay, he pushed some but backed down when she needed it. He'd been patient and kind, his touch...she could still feel it on her skin. Warm and reassuring. So she closed the distance between them, leaned over him and was struck by a sensation she hadn't felt before or if she had, she hadn't realized how strong it was. She knew she liked him but this was different.

He was handsome, her eyes raked over his face, took in every curve, every line. The slope of his nose and the way he breathed long and deep. His hand twitched every few seconds and it was cute. He was cute. And he was her friend.

She slowly leaned in, closed her eyes and didn't stop until her mouth landed on warm skin. The scratch of his stubble burned her already abused lip but she didn't pull away, not yet. She kept her lips on his jaw. Kept them there even when she whispered her thank you.

And then she was leaving, pulling away abruptly as if she had just realized what happened. But no, she'd done it on purpose. She'd done it. And that was why she was leaving before he woke up. She wasn't just leaving, she was practically sprinting. As well as one could with a limp. He'd be upset that she left, probably mad because he'd said he would have a car take her home but she could manage.

She'd kept the three hundred dollars. She wouldn't give it back, she'd taken a beating for it and would've had worse if she hadn't fought. It was dirty money and she didn't give a damn. She was keeping it.

She shut his door softly, didn't want to wake anyone. And then she was gone.

She hadn't seen his eyes open to watch her walk away, hadn't seen the soft smile on his face. But when she made it outside there was a car waiting for her. A chauffeur asking if she was Kate and instead of lying, she gave him the satisfaction and said yes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Castle is not mine. ****  
**

**a/n: Short note: My grandma died, I've also been working nonstop, and now care for my grandfather and his house. I didn't forget this fic. I've just had zero time to even touch my computer and I've been having a hard time emotionally because I'm completely overwhelmed with life at the moment. **

Kate hadn't planned to work until late evening. Her shift at the club didn't start until eight and she'd planned to spend the day at home with her nose in a book. _His _book. It was becoming an addiction to read his words, to pour through them and hide in each page.

She hadn't gone out much in the last few days, didn't like dealing with people staring at the bruising on her face. Even with makeup, she could only cover parts of it. The darkest spots were always still visible and she'd given up covering it at all unless she was working at the club. Then she hid them as best she could. The discoloration on her shoulder was becoming a sickly yellow, her hip still dark and painful if she moved a certain way but her ribs were the most tender. They ached if she breathed in too deeply or twisted the wrong way.

She'd been looking forward to spending a day in bed, stretched out and just relaxing within the black and white print of Richard Castle's imagination. But instead she was in the warmth of Richard Castle's loft. He'd called, asked if she wanted to pick up an extra day for double the pay. She couldn't say no, nor had she wanted to.

That was why she currently pulled tape off the top of a box and why she kept casting glances at him. He wasn't working on his book or getting ready like he'd said he would be. According to the clock he had a meeting in twenty minutes but he was still in pajamas, his hair still sticking up adorably in the back and she had to bite her lip, remind herself that she couldn't crawl across the floor, couldn't slide into his lap and comb her fingertips through to tame his rumpled hair.

She thought about him too much lately. She knew she did and she had to admit, it wasn't just his books that she'd become addicted to. But he never needed to know that she craved the safety he made her feel. Or that his eyes sparkled a vibrant blue when he teased her. A bright color that couldn't be matched. She was still dragging her gaze up his jaw when he turned to her, flashed her a grin and Kate could feel the heat zip through her blood, knew her cheeks would redden.

It took a moment for her to look away, to dip her hands beneath the flap of the cardboard box and tug out the first item. Something cool to the touch and shaped in a way that had her curiosity piqued. Amusement swept over her when she held it in her hands. The smile on her face tugged uncomfortably but it didn't hurt anymore.

"What is this?" She knew what it was but she asked anyway because she needed to hear him say it. She needed the satisfaction of knowing she was right. He _was_ a child at heart. His entire face lit up when he saw what she was cradling in her palms. And she knew she'd unlocked another tiny piece of his personality. The part she'd been given hints to but had never confirmed.

"You found it! Alexis is going to be thrilled."

"You own laser tag gear?" It was a stupid question. She had the gun in her hands, could see the other in the box as well as the goggles, the vests.

"Top of the line. I think a night of laser tag is just what Alexis needs." It was her turn to not push, to let him open up on his own but his shoulders had dropped when he mentioned his daughter, the smile faltered and she wondered if he felt like this each time she shut down.

Did he want to just wrap his arms around her, tell her to just hold on because it'd be okay? She didn't even know why she felt that way, why she suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. But in two seconds he'd gone from happy to a dark pensive look that she knew all too well. Regret.

"You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Wanna play a round?" He was already pulling things out of the box, handing her a weapon.

"Your meeting is -"

"Not for another hour and a half. I might have lied a little about the time because I wanted to see if you were okay." It was honest and rubbed her raw. The fact that his eyes were on her cheek and his hand reached up to rub over her chin. "Healing slowly."

"Doesn't hurt as much." She didn't tell him that she soothed it with tequila, or that she'd lied and told her father she'd fallen down some stairs, hit her face on the banister. Not that he'd believed her. Even wasted, he knew she was lying. She would never tell him what happened. She hadn't even told Rick everything.

"So you up for a game?"

"You're paying me double today, I shouldn't -"

"Exactly. _I'm _paying you which means as your boss, I say you get to play one round of laser tag. C'mon Kate, afraid you'll lose?" It shouldn't have got to her - the cockiness in his tone - but it did.

It shot straight through her brain, down her spine and pooled warmly between her thighs. And she knew she was hooked. She'd never backed down from a challenge and she wasn't about to start. Without even giving him the satisfaction of an answer, she started suiting up.

For the first time since her mother's murder, she felt the possibility of something beautiful and fun bubble in her chest. She hadn't had the chance for much fun lately. But once they'd shook hands, declared war and searched for places to hide, the smile on her face was making her cheeks ache.

She crept through his loft, heart pounding in excitement because she was smaller, could fit easily behind and between things and he didn't have a chance. She moved with stealth into his office, crouched low behind the desk and waited.

The key was waiting for the opportune moment. He would seek her out and then she'd get him. Kate listened, tried to hear any movement being made as she clutched the gun to her chest. But it was silent. He was good too. She should have known that.

She tried to swivel around, just to peek around his office. But her ribs protested. Screamed at her and she bit down hard on her lip to keep quiet. Only half succeeded due to the sharp intake of air. If he was listening as intently as she was then he'd definitely heard her. She'd been made by her own curiosity, her own fault.

There was no sound, nothing and she knew it'd be a matter of minutes before he found her. She clamped one hand over her ribs, gave herself a pep talk about how she would not lose a silly game to him – she'd never hear the end of it – and with a slight wince, she rose from her hiding spot. She checked the doors, made sure he wasn't lying in wait. And then she stepped silently over to peek out the bookshelf. The living room was clear. Her eyes raked over every surface and she couldn't see anything. She heard the rustle of fabric though, barely audible. And knew exactly where he was. She crouched down, ignored the ache in her hip and the way her side throbbed. She was enjoying herself, the hunt, the racing of her heart too much to let a couple bumps and bruises stand in the way.

She kept to the wall for a minute, maybe more just to be sure he wouldn't suddenly jump up and tag her. He didn't. And that was when she went for the kill shot. She stayed close to the floor until she got close. He never heard her, never noticed when she crept up behind him and the taste of victory was sweet when she squeezed the trigger, lit up his vest while he was still crouched between the couch and table.

He froze. She saw it in every muscle and then he was up in a flash, turning to stare at her. She wanted to dance, wanted to celebrate her win. The look on his face was more than worth it and she almost did, but he was staring, frowning and when he tried to take a step toward her, his foot caught and he tumbled. It shouldn't have been funny, but the look of panic, the girlish scream.

She couldn't help it, couldn't stop the laugh that escaped. She doubled over, hair falling in her face, every bruise on her body protesting and she couldn't stop laughing.

"Oh you think it's funny?" A nod was her only reply. Because it was. It was hilarious. Until his weight slammed against her knees and she went down.

His ceiling was the next thing she saw. She could only stare up at it, disbelief in every giggle that still escaped and then he was there. Above her, leaning over her. _Oh._ She gulped when his thigh slid between hers, when she could feel the heat of it.

His smile fell, his eyes darkened and she felt all the air be sucked out of her lungs when he dipped his head. He was staring straight into her, through her and all she wanted was to feel his mouth on hers. He was going to kiss her and she wanted it. He took his time, she shivered when his fingers brushed her hair off her cheek. The warmth of them searing her skin, the damp heat of his breath against her lips and she might have whimpered. Might have. She didn't mean to, she really didn't, wasn't thinking but her hips pressed up into his. She just needed him closer.

And that was when it ended. When something shifted and he pulled back. He didn't just pull away, he jumped, fled. Left her on her back in the floor with her chest heaving for air. A cold rush where solid heat had been just seconds ago.

_What the hell?_ It took her a minute to get up, hurt more than just her ribs. Her chest ached too and she felt embarrassment settle in. Her face flushed with it, already overheated from the strange punch of arousal that still twisted uncomfortably in her loins.

He faced away, his hand rubbed over the back of his neck and his shoulders were tense.

"I uh, I need to get ready for my meeting."

"Okay." What else was there to say? She didn't want to make it anymore awkward, didn't want to ask him what just happened. So she kept it to herself. "I'll go."

He turned then, stared at her with apologetic eyes. And she wondered how ridiculous they looked, with laser tag vests still in place. Guns abandoned to the floor.

"No, no Kate, stay. I asked you to work today." It was enough to have her offer him a smile. She didn't like how things had changed in less than a minute but it seemed as though he didn't either. "Just stay, please."

She didn't say she would but he must have took her silence as an agreement because he was smiling when he headed for the bedroom.

She left as soon as she heard the shower turn on.

* * *

The entire meeting had been a joke. Left him in a bad mood. He hadn't been in such a good one when he'd arrived either. She'd left. Kate had left. He'd fucked up. He'd made a mess of things and he didn't know how to fix it.

She hadn't even stuck around for her pay. She'd waited till he was busy and then she'd bolted. Part of him had known she would but the other part had hoped they were past all that. The messy things. The things she hid. But he couldn't blame her for this one. It was his fault. He'd almost kissed her. He would have kissed her if...if he hadn't come to his senses. If she hadn't made that tiny sound that sunk down into his bones like ice.

She was nineteen. She was hurt. She was still hiding things. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't take advantage just because he was feeling something. He liked her. There was no point denying it anymore. Not when her laugh had left him speechless, not when it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard her make.

But he knew women, he knew he had probably hurt her feelings even though that hadn't been his intention. None of it had been his intention. He didn't plan to almost kiss her. He didn't plan to have her under him with the warmth between her thighs so close to where he wanted. He would have done it. He would have tasted her mouth, explored it, caressed. But then she'd whimpered. And all he saw were the bruises, the pain in her eyes, and he couldn't.

So here he was, at Bottoms Up. A place he swore he would never come back to but he'd do just about anything for her. For Kate. She had him in knots. He needed to do something, save the friendship he thought they had.

He hadn't thought twice about walking in, hadn't noticed the girl gyrating across the stage. Kate. He needed to find Kate. She wasn't by the bar. She wasn't delivering drinks to tables. He headed for the back, ignored the sign for employees only. Ignored the rage that welled within and the clench of his fists when he passed the office.

He still didn't know how she'd ended up with so many bruises, she hadn't told him the whole truth. And it still bothered him. But he wasn't here about that. And when he turned the corner to their makeshift dressing room, he forgot why he was here in the first place.

Skin. All he saw was bare skin. Hers. Kate's. Her back, completely naked and despite the door being wide open she was sliding a pair of black leather panties up over her hips. He bit back a groan, tried to look away but his eyes found the mirror and that was worse. So much worse. Her hair was curled, big bold curls and the mirror provided a perfect side view. She was going to kill him. She reached for something and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tried to pretend he hadn't seen the flash of nipple. But he had. He had and it was seared into his brain.

Fuck it. He almost walked up behind her, almost wrapped his arms around her waist and gave in. Somehow he held onto a shred of control, backed out of the doorway when he noticed the makeup brush in her hand and was reminded of the discoloration mapped across her skin.

She was covering bruises. He couldn't watch that.

He left, silently. She never noticed or if she had, she didn't say anything. He ordered a whiskey sour and dropped down at the table he always used. He waited even though he knew he should just go, catch her another time. He waited and told himself that he could watch her dance, no big deal.

It was a lie and he knew it. He dropped his head in his hands and waited for his drink.

It arrived with a soft thunk on the table, along with the scent of cheap perfume and tan long legs.

"What are you doing here?" He jumped, not ready for her voice, for her. But she was staring at him, dark makeup and all. Eyebrow arched and a soft smile on her lips. He barely noticed the bruising.

"You left before I could pay you." His gaze roamed, looked for more bruising and found...leather. All leather and some lace. Her middle covered by a corset.

"Don't worry about it. We spent most the time playing laser tag."

"I told you double pay and I intend to hold up my end of the deal." He heard her scoff, found himself staring up at her face again. And it pleased him to know that he'd seen beneath the mask, he knew what she looked like without all the paint, without her hair curled and pinned. He'd seen the bruises she hid from everyone else.

"Look, Rick -"

"Kate," He whispered it, knew she didn't want anyone here to know her name but it did the trick, it had her eyes locking on his. "I'm sorry."

He didn't explain it further. She'd know exactly what he meant and when she bit her lip, shook her head, he knew they were okay.

"I gotta deliver the rest of these drinks but first break is at eleven if you want to stick around."

"I'll be here." He didn't have anywhere else to be. Alexis was asleep, his mother had commandeered the guest room for the night and he would've spent hours worrying. So he'd come to her, and he'd stay. He watched her walk away, admired that she could walk in heels that high while balancing a tray of drinks on one hand.

He stared at her more than he should have. Smiled when she faked politeness and leaned over tables for men to slide a tip down the front of her corset. She hated it. Disgusted by it and still she came to work. He admired that too. He didn't understand it but he admired it. He ordered another drink just to get her back at his table.

She knew it. He hadn't even finished his first.

"Sit with me."

"I'm working."

"Do you want me to clear it with your boss?" He would. And he'd make it clear that if anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way, he'd be back and it wouldn't end well.

"He's not here tonight. Thankfully."

"Great, then have a seat." He wasn't stunned at all when she rolled eyes and dropped down next to him. "Are we okay?"

"We're good." It was said with such a soft conviction that he didn't question it. Whatever had made her run earlier was gone. She'd either worked through it on her own or his apology had smoothed everything over. "Are _you_ okay? You looked kind of broody sitting over here nursing your drink."

"_Broody?_" She shrugged a shoulder, didn't even try to hide her wince. He didn't point it out. "Bad meeting earlier, that's all."

They both knew it wasn't. And when she took a pretty big gulp of the drink he'd ordered, he reached for it. He pulled it from her hand and tried not to let his cards show. He wasn't fond of the idea of Kate being drunk while working in such a seedy place but he had no right to say anything, not when they were stumbling around into..._friendship?_ No. They were dancing into something different, something bigger.

"I shouldn't have tackled you. I wasn't thinking and I should have been. You're still hurt, still in pain."

"It's not that bad and you didn't hurt me." He could hear it, could hear the sarcastic _'not physically' _but she didn't say it. "Come on."

She grabbed his hand, pulled as she stood up until he was forced to do the same or let go. He didn't let go. He never wanted to let go so he followed her, he let her tug him through the tables and right by the bar.

"I'm taking a five minute break, Joe." She only got a grunt in response but it had her smiling again and her fingers slid between his.

She wasn't pulling anymore, she was holding his hand and he could feel her nervousness in her grip. He chose to let her. He liked the warmth of her palm against his and when she opened the door to the alley, he actually dreaded the thought of her letting go.

She didn't. Even as the door closed and she turned to face him, she kept her hand in his and he squeezed a little too tight but she squeezed right back.

"Thanks for coming."

"To pay you?"

"I'm barely making enough, he won't let me dance. Because of the bruises. Damaged goods." She wasn't looking at him, she was staring at their hands but he heard the crack in her voice, saw the way her shoulders trembled.

"Kate, you don't have to do this." He made her look at him, tilted her chin up until she had no choice.

"You being here is nice. Plus you give good tips."

"I would help. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah. I do." And yet she wouldn't accept it. He knew her well enough. Five minutes. She only had five minutes and he wanted to make sure they really were okay, that she was okay. He did the only thing he could think of.

He let go of her hand and before she could throw her defenses back up, he invaded. He filled her personal space and his arms wound around her, his hands met the laced up back of her corset. He pulled her in, hoped this wouldn't set them back and make things awkward again.

She froze, tensed. He felt every muscle lock up. He whispered her name, addicted to the sound of it and she relaxed immediately.

It took another minute before he felt the warmth of her palms against his back. But as soon as she touched, she was clinging. Holding on. Letting him hug her. He didn't know what it meant, didn't know what this made them but with her tucked against his chest, he had a feeling there was no way they were just friends. Not when he held her in place, not when he stroked over her hair.

"I want to help." Not when he whispered against her temple or when his lips grew a mind of their own and kissed her head.

"You need to go, Rick."

"I -"

"I have to get back to work." And yet, she still had her cheek pressed to his chest. "I know I have the next couple days off but maybe we could go do something, if you want?"

He let her pull away and he saw how uncertain she was. He knew what she was asking. How brave it was of her to do so, how scared it made her. And he knew he shouldn't. Just like he shouldn't have almost kissed her. But he was pretty sure he was already falling and he couldn't see anything but the world hidden in her eyes. He couldn't see the disaster waiting to happen or the fact that neither of them needed something so complicated in their lives.

"Call me when you get home." He would know she was safe and maybe then, he'd tell her. Maybe he would let her know that he didn't know what to do. How to say what he wanted. He didn't know how to tell her no. "Please."

"Okay."

There was no way he'd be able to shut her out, no way to walk away. His control was slipping and it would be shattered soon. He wouldn't be able to resist her and that terrified him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Not owning any part of Castle.**

**A/N: Update: my life is still a mess. BUT I got to go on a mini vacation for three days. My best friend bought concert tickets and we'd been planning the trip for months. Recently her grandfather died and we both just needed to get away so we decided to just go. **

She woke with a gasp, eyes blinking in confusion and sweat coating her skin. A heaviness in her limbs and a fire in her belly. It took a minute, for the fog to clear, for Kate to realize she'd been dreaming. That she was alone, in her room, in her bed. Sunlight peeked through the curtains and she groaned in pure frustration. She wasn't enveloped by bare skin, wasn't tugging at soft hair and pulling his mouth to hers.

Richard Castle wasn't kissing her, he wasn't touching her like he had been moments ago. His hands weren't against her skin. But when she kicked at the blanket in disgust, she felt the arousal spike as the fabric slid across her body. Her thighs shifted, her hips rocked and she hated that she was so worked up, that a dream had left her wanting.

A dream about him. About how warm he was to the touch, how it felt when his mouth closed over her nipple and his fingers slid between her legs to explore her folds. She closed her eyes again, tried to think of something else but it was there. The flash of bare flesh and the way he'd said her name was still echoing in her ears. It hadn't been real but she'd swear she could still feel the push of his fingers, the way they curled inside her. His.

It wasn't the first time she'd dreamt of a hand between her legs, wasn't the first time she'd woke sweating and still feeling fingers inside her but it was the first time she was aroused and not terrified. The first time it was him and not a man with soulless eyes and fists that marred her skin. It was the first time, she'd moaned and sighed instead of grunted and screamed in pain.

Even now, with her chest heaving and her body aching in need, she could still feel the heat. Her breathing was still rapid, her skin flushed. She could feel it. She could still feel him, Richard fucking Castle. And it wasn't dissipating, the dampness between her thighs, and the twisting in her abdomen. She pushed the heels of her palms against her eyes, pressed until lines and squiggles appeared. Until it hurt to keep pressing. That didn't help either.

With a growl, she let her hands fall to her stomach and stared down at the batman emblem across her chest, the way her nipples peaked beneath the fabric. Yeah, they were traitors too. The shirt smelled of him, maybe that was why she slid one hand down, teased the edge of her panties with the tips of her fingers as the other went up, rubbed over her breast. She shivered hard.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't as hot, as needy, as desperate as her dream had been. But she still arched into it, rocked her hips and threw her head back when her fingers slipped inside her panties. She needed touch, hard pressure. She didn't tease herself, not much. She let her thumb rub over the ink in her skin. Her subconscious had done enough teasing. She was thinking of him, imagining it was his hand rubbing through her soaked folds. Imagined it was his thumb tracing the lines of her tattoo. She lost herself in the fantasy, telling him faster, harder, biting her lip to stifle a moan when she thought of the way he'd been kissing her stomach, leaving a trail until his face disappeared and she'd woke frustrated.

She wanted it. She wanted him. All of it, everything from his mouth on hers to the way her thighs had lazily fallen open when he'd nudged them apart. It all felt too real. And she'd wanted him, begged him to taste her. She didn't know what that felt like, had never had a guy do that to her. But she'd wanted him to in her dream.

And now with her fingers slick and dancing, gliding, rubbing and her breath coming out in short pants, she pictured it. Imagined his face. Her back arched off the mattress, her muscles tightened and she came with his name on her tongue.

She laid there trying to catch her breath, her bones liquid. Slowly her eyes opened and when Kate saw the clock, she scrambled. She jerked her hand out of her panties, pulled her shirt down to cover her thighs.

"Shit, shit, shit. Fuck." It was late. She was late. She wiped her fingers on the sheet, told herself she'd change it later and stumbled out of bed. And proceeded to trip over her shoe, her hip caught the bedside table and she didn't even look to see what she'd grabbed from her dresser before she darted across the hall to the bathroom.

It wasn't until after she'd used the restroom, discarded her embarrassingly damp panties to her hamper, that she looked to see what she'd brought with her. Clean underwear – appropriate. She didn't bite back her smile, too amused at this point. She was going to be late and it was technically his fault. He'd invaded her dreams.

She didn't have time to fuss. Didn't do anything more than brush her teeth, slide into the black lace cheekies and a pair of jeans. Her hair was a lost cause, she didn't even look at it or she would've been even later than late. She had to leave. Now.

She skidded into the kitchen, stole a piece of bacon from her father's plate. And smacked a kiss to his cheek, ignored the stink of alcohol. Another day, another battle she didn't want to have yet again. Not when he could still so easily point out the bruising she still battled to hide.

"Bye, Dad." She didn't stick around to hear what he had to say. She didn't want the excuses, or the slurred words, didn't need to see his bloodshot eyes or smell the whiskey on his breath. Not today. She ran out the door and pretended she didn't hear him call her name.

She knew he loved her. She did but he disappointed her and some days, it was better to just not say anything to him. And she was late. She didn't have time. She didn't have time to think about how he didn't quite love her enough to put down the bottle. She didn't have time to mope about how much that stung and chafed at her heart.

It was more than just a disappointment. It was a full frontal assault on her psyche. But she shoved it down, put it in a box and locked it away. Not today.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator up to the loft that she realized in her haste to get out the door, she'd forgotten to change shirts. She hadn't even put on a bra. She was a fucking mess, no doubt looking like some college level walk of shame. And that was the kicker, wasn't it? The fact that her walk of shame was actually nearly an every night event on her way home from 'work'.

That shame almost had her pushing the button for the lobby but she was already late and she didn't want to just ditch him. The thought made her stomach twist in knots. Even if she didn't belong in his world, he had hired her. He was giving her a chance to make honest money instead of the sleazy dollar bills she pressed between book pages to straighten out. And he was a good man. She knew that now. He'd taken care of her, made her feel safe. Without demanding an explanation. She still owed him that.

She stepped out when the elevator doors opened and continued on the path that led to his home. She couldn't just leave. Even though her legs still felt a little wobbly and the heat still lingered between her thighs, she stayed. She knocked on the door and waited.

And waited. It was silent, no footsteps. She let her knuckles slap against the door again, a little harder this time. She jumped back from the door when she heard a crash, a loud thump and a few colorful words from the man on the other side. Nothing prepared her for the moment he appeared in front of her. Not a goddamn thing.

Her smile fell, her eyes dropped and every lick of heat she thought she'd tamped down, rose with a ferocity that had her shifting her thighs. He was wet. Her gaze followed a droplet of water that slid enticingly down his chest and she bit her lip hard, resisting the urge to touch him. She didn't notice anything but his skin, the muscles of his arms that clenched and the heat that raged in her blood.

"Hey." His voice made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Of course. Of course he was clutching a towel low on his hips when not even two hours ago she'd dreamt of him, got herself off just thinking of him.

"Uh..hi." Barely more than a squeak and she berated herself for being so affected, for feeling her nipples tighten and her muscles quiver when she found his gaze. Bright blue, playful. She didn't hold back her chuckle when she noticed the patch of soap on his neck or the shampoo holding his hair in a slick Elvis style.

"I thought you weren't coming. I was -" he gestured over his shoulder and she assumed his hand swirling back and forth was his way of telling her something she already knew.

"Sorry, I overslept." Not true but she didn't exactly feel like telling him the truth. The _'oh, sorry I'm late, I was too busy masturbating because of you to notice the time.'_ But he was watching her like he knew it was more, almost like he could read her thoughts and she dropped her eyes to the floor. His bare toes and the puddle he'd created had her smiling again. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, right. Please do." He stepped aside and she did her best to slide by without staring at his chest again.

He shouldn't have been so aesthetically pleasing and she wouldn't have had this problem. She waited awkwardly near the couch, no longer feeling as comfortable as she had in the past. Not when the fact that she liked him – _really liked him –_ caused her to have erotic dreams.

And then it all vanished. The awkwardness gone when he yelped and pressed his hand to his eye. Mumbling about shampoo, leaving her alone in the living room as he stumbled off to finish his shower. He was adorable.

She dropped her bag and wandered over to peruse his shelves. She knew where things were, she'd put them there but he'd added things. Slipped a few more books here and there and she couldn't stop herself from touching, from skimming the tips of her fingers down the spines. There was something about it that tugged at her heart. The fact that he didn't move things when she put them somewhere.

Like the little glass figurine she'd stuck in the corner of one shelf. It was still there. He hadn't moved it even though she's sure that was not where he'd intended it to go. He also hadn't touched the radio she'd plugged in and left in the floor beneath the window. For some reason that made her happy, she felt as though _he _valued her in some way.

That was better than the fact that he'd almost kissed her once, a few days ago. Better than the way he'd hugged her close in an alley that reminded her all too much of the one her mother had died in.

Kate shoved that away too. Another thing she couldn't deal with today. So she leaned down, turned on the stereo and smiled. He hadn't changed the station either. She knew without looking because the smooth sound of guitar filled her ears. She knew the song, knew every word. Santana made her want to dance, made her want to just forget everything and enjoy dancing instead of loathing every second of it.

She made herself find something else to do. But she hummed along, singing a few words here and there as she puttered around the bookshelves, trying to wipe the image of him in nothing more than a towel out of her head. She had bigger problems than lusting after a bestselling author, she couldn't add him to the list of mistakes she was making.

* * *

Stupid. He was a moron. But at least he was now a fully dressed moron who didn't have shampoo in his eye. He'd thought she wasn't coming, he'd thought maybe something had come up. At one point he'd thought maybe she was fighting for her life...again...and he'd let himself think the worst. Which is why he'd forced himself to do something. To take his mind off of her when he knew he was probably overreacting.

He didn't know why he'd decided a shower would be best, he'd piddled, spent more time in there than usual and the whole time he'd pictured her bruised and broken. Bloody and gasping for air. He'd barely heard the knock. Barely made it to the door without breaking something. And she'd looked...perfect. Sleepy and rumpled which was something he didn't expect but perfect. No more bruises. Well not any new ones, she still had the fading coloration on her face and he'd bet her ribs too but he hadn't sneaked any peeks lately.

Not since the night at the club. When he'd held her and admitted to himself that she was more than a friend, more than just someone he wanted to help. He cared. He cared way too damn much and that was only solidified by a twist in his chest when he stepped into the living room.

She was in his shirt. Something he'd noticed as soon as he'd seen her but he hadn't taken the time to appreciate it. He did now. With her back to him and her hips swaying to the beat of Santeria drifting from the radio she'd unpacked days ago. He'd ask later if she was a fan of Sublime.

His eyes raked over her, from the messy hair down to those enticing hips that were hidden beneath the length of his shirt. _His. _She was fussing over books, rearranging a few that had already been exactly where he wanted them but he knew he wouldn't move them back. She was touching his things as if they were her own and he wouldn't ruin her comfort by moving them again.

He almost groaned when she twisted her hips in a move that was all too close to the dirty taunting ones she used when she stripped, and again when his shirt stretched tight over her ass as she stopped mid dance to bend over and grab something from the bottom shelf. Then she resumed her slow sultry sway almost as if she didn't even notice she was dancing. Maybe she didn't.

But she'd sure noticed him in nothing but a towel. He'd seen her eyes drift, watched them widen and the pupils dilate. He wouldn't mention that, wouldn't embarrass her anymore than she'd already been. She looked good with flushed skin. And didn't that set off a whole new array of thoughts about ways to get the pink back in her cheeks.

She let out a squeak and he thought he'd been caught, but no, she pivoted and almost tripped in her hurry to get back to the radio. That noise she made slid down his spine, coiled low like a caress of fingers wrapping around his shaft. He wanted to know what erotic little sounds she made when she was begging to come. He was completely infatuated. And in so much trouble. Kate Beckett would ruin him.

She noticed him then, he saw it but she didn't stop until she dropped to her knees and twisted the volume knob. He knew in that split second as her face lit up that Kate was irresistible and he was nothing but a fool to even try. Maybe it was time to stop trying. Maybe it was time he let her in, further than she'd already burrowed. And it was definitely time to stop waiting, he needed to push her for more than the tiny tidbits she occasionally told him.

He shoved away his less than pure thoughts about her being in his shirt and the fact that he knew she wasn't wearing a bra. He'd seen her in less. Okay, that didn't help. That just had him thinking of what he hadn't seen yet or the hint of a tattoo he'd noticed peeking out of her panties the last time he'd been at the club. He forced it all down, stepped closer and spoke just an octave above the song she seemed childishly excited about.

"Savage Garden fan?" Oh the things that surprised him. With Break Me, Shake Me flowing from the speakers and her smile, he knew she would always surprise him.

"Little bit." It was obviously more than that but he let her downplay it and chose not to tease her when she hummed along.

"You know what I thought the first moment I saw you?" He didn't know why he brought it up but the adorably stunned expression on her face was enough to make him continue. "That it takes a special kind of woman to strip to AC/DC."

Her laugh was worth it. The way it rushed out of her on a breath, short and abrupt. Just enough to remind him that she had a beautiful laugh, a gorgeous smile that brightened her face and made it impossible not to smile back.

"Sometimes we can pick our own music. When Vincent's in a good mood and if we haven't done something to piss him off." The shadows smothered her smile, his too. "I'm not on his good side anymore so don't expect anything more than dirty trashy music next time I dance, okay?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" He lowered himself to the floor, sat down next to her and had to physically stop himself from touching the green and yellow marks on her face. She still winced if she moved a certain way, still favored her shoulder too and from spending the last few nights at Bottoms Up, he knew she still wasn't allowed to strip.

Not that he minded. He didn't want her up there anyway but it took a toll on her. It worried her, the money wasn't as good and he'd been slipping extra in her bag each day she came to work for him. Worse than that, she pretended not to notice which made him think she was desperate for it. Ashamed.

"I..." She let it drop, turned to stare at the window and chew on her lip. She'd have it bleeding again if she didn't stop it.

He pushed.

"Kate, I trust you and I respect you but you showed up at my door barely conscious. I just want to know you're safe." He wasn't expecting the scoff she let out or the way it burned like acid in his stomach.

"You wouldn't respect me anymore if I told you."

"You don't know that." He saw it flash in her eyes, the fact that she actually believed he wouldn't. The hurt clear in the green that turned to meet him. They'd change in a minute, always turned darker. A golden rich color like whiskey when she was upset.

"I thought I was doing something good. I thought I was helping Esmerelda but when I got there, it was Vincent who pulled me aside. He wanted me to do him a _favor_." Her voice dripped with disgust and he was already regretting that he'd asked.

His writer's imagination was already working double time. And each scenario left him sick to his stomach and had anger punching through his chest. A visceral assault on his body.

"Kate," he murmured, unsure of what to say next.

"Not that. Not him. You were right about the club being a front, about the drugs that get smuggled back and forth. I don't get involved, I don't. I show up and I strip, I take my money and that's it. Some of the other girls sell, or buy and use but I don't. Rick, I -"

"I know. I already know that, Kate." She was getting upset. Her hands had started to tremble. "You're not like them."

And then she made a strangled noise of disgust and he knew. He knew she'd done something monumentally stupid. His anger rose before she even rushed to explain.

"It was just once, he offered me six-hundred to take a box to an associate of his. Cocaine. Three hundred up front and I know what you're thinking, I do but I needed the money and I thought it was an easy drop. I would just get it over with, get paid and come here like I'd planned."

"Let me get this straight, you moved drugs for this guy because he offered you money?" He was failing at controlling his temper, letting it seep into his words and had to watch as she shifted away from him. The pang it caused in his chest was pushed aside; at that moment, he didn't care that she seemed wary of the tone of his voice. "That's what your life is worth to you? Six hundred dollars – that I'm sure you didn't get after taking a beating that could have killed you."

"I didn't know -"

"Jesus Christ, Kate. You did know! You're smarter than that so don't play dumb with me right now. You knew it could go south and you still did it." He shoved a hand through his hair, closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. And when he opened them, she was back to the headstrong woman who didn't shy away from him.

"Yes! Yes, I knew that. Okay but I – I didn't know he'd traded me right along with the drugs. I didn't know that I was being set up, that I was supposed to let..." she paused but he already knew what she wouldn't say; he'd already guessed, "and when I realized, I tried to run. I fought back and I thought I was going to die in that room, is that what you want to hear?"

"No." It wasn't. He didn't want to know. He took it back because he didn't want to know anymore. He didn't want that image in his head, didn't want to know how someone had put their hands on her because she'd been part of an arrangement.

"Yeah, I fucked up. But it's not like I'm going to do it again. Lesson learned." He believed her. He saw it in her eyes, the way she was holding back tears. And when she spoke softly, with trepidation, he knew he hadn't handled it very well. "Do you want me to go?"

He didn't. He was upset, angry and confused but he didn't want her to leave.

"Stay. I'm angry, yes, but don't go."

"I don't even know why I'm still here. Everything's unpacked, I've mailed and emailed everything you asked this week and you haven't mentioned any errands since I got here."

"You need the money right? Didn't you just admit to being a drug mule because someone offered you money?" She flinched and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. But he didn't apologize because that was exactly what she'd done. She'd taken a beating and he was slapping her around with words because of it.

"I -" A giggle cut her off, had her swinging around to stare at the door and he followed her gaze. He heard the key slide in and under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared but he was still stuck in their conversation. Stuck on the fact that something worse would have happened to her if she hadn't fought to get away.

He was sick to his stomach with it. And not even the door opening to his cherub faced four year old and her sweet laugh could make it better. Especially not when he could feel the panic roll off Kate in wave after wave.

"Oh, sorry darling, we're a little early. Alexis wanted to bring you ice cream." He didn't say anything as his mother swept in the room, he was too busy glancing at Kate and her wide eyed expression as she stared at the little girl with a purple bow in her vibrant red hair. "And who might this lovely young lady be?"

He ignored the way she stressed 'young' and knew this day had been coming. He'd wanted them to all meet. But not when he was still brimming with anger and Kate was still so guarded. Not while he was mad at her.

"This is Kate." As soon as he said her name, Alexis was smiling. He'd told her about his friend named Kate and how she helped him find the laser tag gear and wrestle it from the evil aliens. "Kate, this is my mother, Martha, and my daughter, Alexis."

"Hi. Uh I was just...I should go, my dad probably needs me." He would have let her retreat, would have taken her mumbled excuse but as soon as she'd stumbled to her feet, his little girl had started to pout.

His normally shy daughter was the one who stepped forward, with her hands twisting.

"There's enough ice cweam for ever'body." Her wide blue eyes were hard for anyone to resist and he saw Kate fight with it, try to think of a way to bow out without hurting her feelings.

He shouldn't have done it but he didn't want her to run so he pushed to his feet. And when he scooped up his daughter for a hug and a kiss, he did the one thing that would either scare her off for good, or make her stay.

"You can't say no to ice cream, Kate."

She didn't.

* * *

Alexis was asleep on the couch, her stuffed monkey tucked under her arm and mouth open against the pillow. He watched her from the chair, thought back to the last few hours and how well she'd warmed up to Kate. He should have known the woman would pull her in as well. There was something about her and clearly his daughter hadn't resisted. Or maybe she hadn't been able to. He'd tried and failed. What the hell was he going to do with Kate Beckett? He wanted to help, he wanted to be there for her. He'd also wanted to shake her for being so stupid or kiss her because it could have been worse.

He hadn't done either of those. Instead, he'd asked her to stay and spend time with his family. Something she hadn't been very comfortable doing but Alexis hadn't noticed. They'd chatted over ice cream, talked Disney movies and favorite books. With Kate acting cautious and eying the door the whole time. His mother had watched, spoke every so often, asked what Kate did for a living, how old she was. All things he'd hoped they'd avoid.

But of course not. His mother was nosy.

And Kate was Kate. She'd answered what she considered appropriate and hid away the rest like a dirty secret that didn't need to see the light of day. Except he'd already told his mother everything. Most of it. He'd shared how he was trying to help a troubled girl. And yet he'd kept things hidden too. Things like how much he was starting to care for that troubled girl.

He startled when a hand landed on his shoulder, looked up to see the worry etched into the lines of his mother's face.

"Richard,"

"She's a good person." And no one had questioned that but he felt the need to stand up for her, to protect her. Even if he was a little pissed at her.

"I didn't say otherwise. She's smart, well read, and despite how skittish she acted, I think she has a soft spot for Alexis. And you, but -"

"She needs help."

"I noticed the bruises. They were a little hard to miss." And Alexis had blatantly pointed them out with her natural curiosity. "I also noticed the way you look at her."

"She's my friend and someone hurt her. There's a lot I still don't know but she trusts me and for now, that's enough." But it wasn't. Not when he was angry, not when he'd wanted to demand every detail of where she'd been when she was beaten, not when he wanted to pay her boss a visit.

He would. He would do that for her.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Richard." And that was the kicker. Since Kate Beckett had come into his life – he didn't have a fucking clue.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy playing. :)**

**A/N: Dear U.S. residents,  
Check out my traveling book project. See my twitter for more details. **

Kate Beckett avoided things like this but tonight she'd felt defeated enough that when she stood in front of the mirror to remove the thick black lines around her eyes and the matte foundation layered on her face, she caught her own gaze for more than a quick second. She lingered, stared into her own eyes and it was something she always tried not to do.

Didn't want to see the hurt, the humiliation. Just wipe it away, look presentable and go home. But she was stuck. Staring. No longer seeing the commotion around her but the storm inside. It was a dark twisted thing that had her paused mid removal of eyeliner. She'd always told herself she was better than this, that she wouldn't get sucked in. That she wouldn't be like the woman behind her with a needle going into her vein and sweat dripping off her brow. But she wasn't any different. Not anymore.

She might not pump drugs into her own body but wasn't it just as bad that the bottle of vodka in her bag was empty? Or that the bartender had slipped her some bourbon because he knew she'd had a rough night. It showed. She tried to hide so much but she was cracking. Tearing at the seams and revealing more than she'd ever intended to. It was harder now.

With her dad. The stripping. Having three jobs. And some sort of fucked up feelings for someone terribly out of her league. Too many things were weighing down now. Too many people to think about.

Her eyes were bleary, bloodshot. She was tipsy. Maybe just a tad drunk. And something in her chest ached. Like father, like daughter. But she wasn't that bad. She wasn't and she never would be. She had plans, things she wanted in life. And yet a part of her feared this would be forever.

She felt the knot in her stomach tighten and move up into her throat. Watched her own reflection go blurry and then she was done. She shook it off, tore her gaze away and focused only on removing the rest of her makeup. She was careful with her cheek, it was still tender to the touch. The swelling was finally gone. And she'd learned to ignore the stares at her bruising.

Except the one that she could feel as soon as she wiped the last of concealer away. A familiar stare that she'd been getting a lot lately. One from apologetic eyes. Kate hadn't said anything to Esmerelda since the night everything happened. Not one word. But she knew the girl felt bad about it, regretted it. She knew that much and still she felt an odd sense of betrayal. Perhaps getting pummeled by guys twice her size had ruined what small bond she'd felt.

They'd done best to stay away from each other. Anytime Kate saw her, she turned the opposite direction but not this time. Tonight she was just tipsy and well on her way to drunk and she didn't care anymore. And she wasn't the only one. When a pile of money was placed in front of her, wads of singles covering the make up littered counter, she paused to stare down at it. A swell of confusion took over, her brow furrowed and then she turned to look into the other girl's face. Green eyes that already had tears welling in them.

"What's this?" The first words between them since Kate had ended up bloody and unconscious.

"I – uh. I wanted to help. It's only fifty, and I know that doesn't make up for anything I did but I'm so sorry, Kris." And when a tear spilled, Kate felt the apprehension and betrayal unravel. She looked over toward the couch, dropped her voice despite being sure the only other person in the room was too high to care.

"Did you know what was going to happen to me?" It was the only question that mattered. And when those red curls swayed as she shook her head, everything settled between them.

"No. I swear I didn't. He just said he needed to talk to you and I told him I didn't know how to contact you." But something had made her give in, made her call and Kate didn't want to know what it was. She'd seen enough bruises to last her a lifetime. She didn't want to look at someone else's. Not even the emotional ones.

"Keep your money. You need it too."

"I picked up some extra shifts. We're down a girl since the newbie stopped showing up."

"I can't take your money when it's some sort of twisted guilt that made you offer." She didn't mean to sound harsh but she knew it came off that way when the soft apologetic look was replaced by one of determination.

"You can. You have to. I know Vincent isn't letting you dance because of the bruises and that's bullshit. It's because he just wants you punished. He wants you to beg him for jobs, anything to make more money and I just want to help so you don't have to do that. It's not guilt – not all of it. I want you to have it."

She knew that too. And that was why she reached for the cash, touched the corner of one bill before she turned back and gave a small nod.

"I'll pay you back." And she would. Every dollar. She was getting by okay but this would go towards a little bit of groceries. She might even splurge and get some Chinese for a late dinner. "I don't blame you. For what happened, not anymore. I did a little, not going to lie about that but it wasn't your fault."

It really wasn't and that was the only reason Kate pocketed the money. She accepted the hug that was offered and was just about to leave when something snagged in her brain. Just an idea based on her own insecurities. She glanced back and asked:

"What's your name?" Part of her hated asking, remembered how she'd felt when a certain someone had pestered her with the same inquiry but she wanted to know. Needed to hear it to begin to trust.

"Uh...Esm-"

"The real one."

"Emily." No hesitation, no tell that it was a lie so she believed her. And with a smile, walked away. She didn't trust Emily enough to share her own.

* * *

Kate got home early. Ten was her early. Vincent hadn't only stuck her on drink duty, he'd cut her hours severely. Even though they were down a person, he'd made sure she had very few opportunities to make anything more than a few dollars here and there. She'd tough it out one more week before she was forced to quit and find something new.

Which was why she pretended not to notice that hundred dollar bills showed up in her bag every time she worked for a certain mystery writer. But she kept a tally in a notebook by her bed, she was going to pay him back. Eventually.

She really shouldn't have splurged but she wasn't in the mood to cook or eat a sandwich. With Chinese takeout in hand, she mentally prepared herself to deal with her father. Part of her hoped he hadn't been home but he was. Her buzz had worn off somewhere between ordering food and arriving which was fine. She didn't want her dad to know. Didn't want him to see that she wasn't as put together as she pretended, that she was just as messed up as he was.

As soon as she stepped into the dark living room and felt as well as heard glass crunch beneath her shoe, she hit the light. Not sure what she'd expected. Maybe the small burst of panic that still had her heart beating quick was from the fear that she'd lose him too. That something had happened.

Something had. But he was sitting on the couch with the blanket she usually draped over him crumpled at his feet. She looked down to see what she'd stepped on and her heart dropped to her toes. Following the takeout that slipped from her grasp. Pain ripped through her, the soul tearing kind that had her knees weakening and disbelief coloring her vision. She didn't want to really see what was littered all over the floor.

"Dad?" Her voice nothing more than a sob that tumbled out as soon as she opened her mouth. She didn't look at him. Couldn't. Her eyes were stuck. The broken glass and splintered frames. Pieces. Everything was in pieces. Each and every photo that had been sitting untouched for months. In the floor. "What did you do?"

She swung her gaze to him, to the bottle in his hand. Her eyes narrowed and the anger bubbled. Boiled over. She waited for an answer that he didn't give.

"Katie..."

"How could you do this?" She crouched and brushed glass off the nearest photo, the frame mangled. He had to have thrown them. Hard. And when she turned it over to see, tears spilled down her cheeks. The wedding picture that had always been her favorite. Her mother's too. She traced her fingers over the dress, a silent apology to a memory that she hadn't even been part of.

And then she was up. Clutching it protectively. Forgetting about the food she'd dropped, she forgot everything but the anger burning at her skin.

He was staring at her, blankly. As if he didn't know what she was even talking about. She took careful steps, around the glass, the photos that she'd pick up, tuck away somewhere safe. Everything poured out of her, the hurt, the fear, how livid she was with him.

She grabbed the bottle from his hand and on a normal day, she'd pour it down the sink. Tell him in the morning that he drank it all. But she wanted him to see. She dropped it. Let it shatter at her feet as he watched. That got a reaction. That had him getting just as pissed off as she was, stumbling to his feet to go nose to nose with her.

He didn't yell. She thought he would, but his voice was calm. Controlled and she'd figured he was too drunk for that.

"Katherine Hou-"

"No. You don't get to lecture me, Dad. I'm not the one sitting in the dark trying to find something at the bottom of a bottle. I'm not the one who _destroyed _the living room. I didn't take -" Her voice cracked and something akin to a whimper rolled out instead but she fought it. Made herself get it out. "I didn't take every framed picture of Mom and throw them around like she meant nothing."

Then he yelled.

"That's not -"

"It is. Look around." But she yelled back. "She was your wife, my mom, and she didn't deserve this! You love her."

That was never questioned. Ever. Kate knew he did. He wouldn't have been drowning if he hadn't. He wouldn't have lost his job. He'd adored her mother. But this wasn't about that.

He lifted his hand, scrubbed it down his face and left a streak of blood over his cheek. That was when she noticed the cut. And she should have made him sit, made him clean it. She didn't. She didn't even say a word about it. He was an adult and she was so tired of having to do everything.

"Katie,"

"I don't want to hear it. Just finish the rest of the alcohol you have stashed away." She wiped her cheeks, choked on the knot in her throat and stepped back with a shake of her head. "I'm not cleaning it up."

But she knew she would. She didn't wait around, didn't even look at him before she headed back the exact path she'd come. She couldn't do it. There was no way she could handle being in the same room with him. The same house.

She couldn't do it when her heart felt hollow and her chest ached. She left him there. Her fingers still tight around the one photo she'd salvaged. She carefully placed it in her bag, slipped it between the pages of Richard Castle's book so it wouldn't be damaged. And then she left.

She took the bottle of vodka he hid in the front closet with her. She'd intended to pour it out. Instead she polished it off and tried not to hate herself for the irony.

* * *

It was becoming a bad habit that she always ended up outside his building with the dark of night as her cover. She was braver when she was pissed off or hurt or slightly drunk. She was a combination of all three and she was determined. To do a lot of things.

Not crying was top of the list and she'd dried it up quickly enough with the thought of something more productive. Something that would take her mind off of everything. Him. He was attracted to her, she knew that. He hid it poorly and even though she hadn't spoken to him in a couple of days, she was in the elevator and pressing the button for his floor before she could even remember why.

Her brain was fuzzy. The elevator took too long and she slumped against the rail. Thoroughly defeated by the day. And starving. If he was still mad at her, she'd have to figure out plan B but for now, she was going to kiss Richard Castle. And spend the night tangled in his sheets. Those were the only two goals she had in mind. He could make her forget.

She didn't care anymore that it was a bad idea. That she worked for him or how adorable his daughter was. She pushed all thoughts aside and headed straight for his door as soon as the elevator arrived at his floor. She couldn't think about him being a good father, or how she liked him way more than she should. That her feelings were deeper than she ever thought they would be.

She knocked three times. A quick succession. A way to get it over and done with before her conscience stepped in. But when the door opened, she was hit with it. All at once.

Soft blue eyes and worry etched into his features. As if he knew she was coming and that confused her. She was pretty sure they'd been sorta at a stand off. Her delivering drugs and getting jumped by two guys hadn't been a neat and tidy conversation between them. And after she'd eaten ice cream with his daughter and answered his mother's questions, she'd slipped out the door without saying goodbye to him.

But there he was. Standing in his doorway with the soft lighting of the loft begging her to come inside and he didn't look so upset anymore. He let her in. There was a moment when he stared, watched as she flopped a little ungracefully onto his couch.

"Wine?" Surprised by him offering without even saying 'hello', she nodded. Maybe just a little more liquid courage.

She turned to watch him, smirked when she realized he was already in pajamas. But then she frowned, looked around for the time. She didn't know how long it had taken her. She had no idea how late it was. But he didn't look as though he'd been in bed.

He returned with a glass of red, she accepted it with shaky fingers. And swallowed a gulp before he sat next to her.

"Are you alright?"

"M'fine. Why?" Maybe it was noticeable. Perhaps she hadn't shut it down as well as she'd thought.

"It's late. The only times you've come over this late have been when something is wrong or when you're two seconds away from losing consciousness." He was smiling, a playful lilt in his tone so she took it as a good sign. And swallowed another mouthful of the wine. She didn't even taste it.

Her body was warm, her blood thrumming and she smiled back. She set the glass on the table, dropped her bag to the floor. It landed in the same spot it always did, exactly where she always put it. She had a routine here.

That was the thought that railroaded her entire plan. The smile fell, her eyes widened. Her life was a mess. And he was routine. Everything about her was just a shattered as the glass in her living room floor. She wasn't good for anyone.

"Kate," The softness, the way her own name sounded like comfort, like a question and an accusation all in one, in the way he said it.

She wrapped her fingers around the glass again because the knot in her throat had returned. She lifted it to her lips and sucked half of it back like a shot. She would have finished it but his hand trapped her wrist. And this time when she looked, he was upset again.

"I -"

"You're drunk." He was disappointed and she'd been beat down enough for one night. She didn't need his judgment. He took her glass, set it aside. "Shouldn't have offered more."

"Yeah well, it's been a shitty night." She reached, her hand grasped at air and tears stung her vision.

"I asked and you said you were fine which is obviously a lie. What happened this time?" He was stern. Made sure she knew that he wasn't giving her anymore alcohol and she stopped reaching around him, trying to get it. She stopped because of his words. The way he'd spoken.

_What happened this time?_

An inquiry that didn't sound sincere. It sounded...mean. Like he was offended by something. Yeah, well so was she. By several things. And she wasn't going to take it from him too. Not when she was already weepy, broken, drunk, and just a little horny.

"He broke everything, okay?" She didn't recognize her own voice. And knew she must have been crying again. It felt like someone was strangling her with every syllable. "All the frames are broken and there's glass everywhere."

"Who? Kate, did someone -" She cut him off with a shake of her head. She knew where was going with that, with the sudden softness that came back, the fingers that touched her knee. No.

She pushed off the couch, getting away from him. Away from the back and forth. Stumbled just a bit and that put the pitying look back in his eyes. She didn't want his goddamn pity. She wanted his...her eyes dropped, cheeks flared red at where that thought had almost gone.

"My dad. You want to know more about me? Fine. My father is an alcoholic and I'm supporting both of us. There. Story time is over." She lifted her gaze, watched as he stood to join her. His shoulders tensed and she was too drunk to resist touching him.

Her fingers were heavy, sloppy when they stroked up his arm.

"I'll get you a glass of water." He was using the same tone she'd heard him use with Alexis and she stepped closer.

"No." This wasn't the way she'd planned it. She didn't think anger would be burning between them. She didn't think he'd be staring down at her with anything more than lust. But he was. "Just...I need -"

"A glass of water, some tylenol and a cab home, Kate." His face showed nothing, not a single twitch when her palm settled on his bicep.

"M'not going home. Not when he's wasted, not this time." She shook her head once, stopped immediately when the room spun.

"Seems to me like that'd be the perfect place. You're wasted, he's wasted."

"What are you -"

"Were you drunk before or after you went home tonight, Kate? You know what, that doesn't even matter." His hand closed over her side, tried to gently push her back but she didn't budge. "You have alcohol in your bag in a water bottle any night you're stripping. I know you need it so I've never said a word and I haven't met your dad so I have no idea what's going on there but it's obvious you used it tonight to deal with something, I'm guessing he does the same."

"I'm not him. I'm not an alcoholic." She wasn't. She could get by without it and he just couldn't. But the fact that a man she cared for, one she respected and trusted had just thrown that in her face really stung. Another layer left raw.

And she was done dealing with it. She didn't lock it down this time. She used it. She could run, she wanted to run but she stayed. She shoved at his chest. Hard enough to knock him back a couple steps. Pissed that he would even say that to her. He didn't know. He didn't have a fucking clue. And before he could even recover, she plastered herself against him. Wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him. Smashed her lips to his as she tugged at the hem of his shirt. Desperate. Frenzied.

It was sloppy, wild of her and she didn't care. He didn't kiss her back. His mouth never opened against hers, like she'd hoped. He didn't pull her closer when she rocked against him, didn't groan and sneak a hand down the back of her pants. Nothing. And she barely noticed at all before he pushed her away, held her there.

She didn't want to open her eyes. Didn't want to see his face. She'd been so sure.

"Kate, I won't do this with you." And her already splintered heart broke open. She didn't look at him, turned away and snatched her bag from the floor. Embarrassment and shame mixed in her belly. Made her nauseous. "Kate, that's not -"

"I'll see you around."

She didn't know where else she'd go. But she couldn't face him. She ignored when he called after her, when she heard his footsteps follow. And she wrenched open the door just as he caught up. He almost touched her, she felt the heat against her hand and knew he'd thought twice.

"I can't...dammit would you look at me?" No. She couldn't but she paused long enough to appease him. "You can sleep it off here, go home in the morning."

Again. She couldn't. He'd done enough.

"Just let me go. I've fucked up enough for one night." This time he didn't stop her. And she pretended she couldn't feel his gaze burning holes in her back as she fled for the elevator.

When she stepped out into the night air with nowhere to go and her chest feeling heavier than it had when she arrived, her body betrayed her, made her double over as she spilled the contents of her stomach. Right there for all of New York to see. No one noticed.

She was shaking when she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, when her abdominal muscles relaxed from the retching and her stomach eased from a hurricane of nausea to just rolling waves. She walked, failed to not look up at his window and somehow she knew he was probably watching her too. But it didn't help. He didn't want her.

There was only one place to go if she didn't want to go home. And she didn't. She couldn't face her father yet. And now she didn't have her author either. And that one place was not appealing. She hated Bottoms Up. She feared Vincent enough after he traded her like she was property to rush out as soon as her shifts were over. But there was a couch. One she didn't want to use. And didn't plan to.

She walked. And circled back. Rode the subway three times. Three separate lines. Back and forth. She was only going back and forth and probably would have done so all night long but something made her step off two stops before the last one.

She didn't head for the club. Wasn't anywhere near it and her legs carried her as if they knew exactly where she was going. Without her brain telling them to. She didn't even know where she was until she was actually there. Outside the fence and looking in. It had to be morning already. Maybe almost three. She didn't think twice before she jumped the fence.

The sharp tip tore her jeans, scraped her leg. And she quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen her. What did it matter if they had? What did it matter if she got caught? It didn't.

She had to search for a few minutes. Walk amongst other rows before she found the familiar one. Everything looked different at night. It was hard to see. But she found it. The gray marble she'd been looking for. And she traced the name etched into it just to be sure.

She leaned against it, the cold seeped into her and it was wrong. Wrong that something cold and hard was a representation of life that had once been warm and vibrant. Loving.

"Mom." It was the only thing she said before she broke down.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**A/N: Since I won't be able to post this next weekend, you're getting it early. Which I assume none of you will mind. ;) Enjoy. **

It had been days of this – of calling and getting no answer. He listened to the ringing each time and waited thinking maybe an answering machine would click on but after three days, he gave up. He ended the call after the fourth ring and dropped the phone on his desk. As far as he knew she didn't have a cellphone. And if she did, he didn't have a number for it.

An ache had settled into his chest the moment she'd kissed him. Three days ago. He'd taken advantage of women before, he wasn't always a gentleman but he'd stopped her. She'd smelled of cheap liquor. Kate. She wasn't supposed to be drunk and throwing herself at him so he'd pushed her away. He'd hurt her feelings and embarrassed her. It had been written all over her face and in the way she'd refused to look at him. But he wasn't sorry. He couldn't be. Not when he knew she would have regretted everything, she would have run off scared and he'd never see her again.

He growled to himself, turned his stare back to the blank screen that mocked him. Not a single word had been typed. Not in days. She'd ran off anyway. He didn't have a clue where she'd gone but he knew her well enough to know she was serious when she'd said that she wouldn't go home. He couldn't even go check if he wanted to, he had no idea where she lived.

He typed a letter, hoped it would lead to more. It didn't. He closed his eyes, placed his fingers on the keys and just starting pressing them. It worked until he looked to see what he'd accomplished.

_Where are you, Kate?_

And then he stabbed the backspace until his page was blank once again. Of all the women, he'd found her. He wanted _her_. He glanced at the time, scrubbed a hand down his face. He'd been putting it off for three days, he'd tried to just let it go but it wasn't working. She wasn't coming around and he needed to at least know she was safe. He wanted to explain.

He needed her to know that it wasn't that he didn't like her, he did. A lot. And her mouth was still haunting his lips, making them tingle anytime he even thought about the way she'd kissed him. But it was sloppy. And he knew Kate Beckett enough to know she wasn't the type to just wildly throw herself at someone. Even if he could still feel her hot fingers tugging at his shirt. She wasn't one night stand material. He wouldn't do that with her, he wouldn't do that _to _her.

There was so much more going on. More than her dad, more than her being upset over...frames. Broken picture frames? Nobody ended up getting wasted over something like that. And she'd tried to use him to hide, to forget. That stung. He imagined just as much as him pushing her away.

Without thinking of the consequences, he pushed out of his chair quickly. Grabbed his jacket from the back. There was one place he could look for her. It was the only place he knew.

He paused in the living room, the stairs pulled his attention. He thought of Alexis asleep with her mountain of stuffed animals. A bubbly bright little girl. Was he hurting her - by attaching himself to Kate? He didn't know. Sometimes he just didn't know the rules of parenting.

But it was his mother bustling in the kitchen who pulled him back.

"Can you -"

"Why do you think I commandeered the guest room, Richard? You've moped for days. Go make sure the girl is okay." There were moments, like right then when he was amazed by his own mother. Even when she tilted her head towards the door and sipped at her drink.

"I'll only be a few hours or so."

"Make sure she's safe. Don't rush." It seemed he wasn't the only one worried about her. And Kate didn't have a clue that so many people cared. Even if she had only met his family briefly, she'd made an imprint. She was rarely late for work and now she'd missed two days.

Because of a kiss. A drunken fumbling kiss that he didn't submit to. He'd wanted to though, she'd been loose and warm against him with a wicked grind of her hips that he couldn't stop thinking about. And soft lips. Her lips were so soft. But his mother didn't know that part, all she knew was that a normally punctual girl who needed money, hadn't shown up lately. He hadn't shared anything about the _why._

He mumbled a 'thank you' already halfway out the door. His thoughts were racing. What would he do when he found her? What if she didn't want to talk? What happened if she wasn't at Bottoms Up at all?

He shook that one off. Didn't like it. She had to be. And if not, he'd ask around and see if she'd been working lately. He'd been wanting to speak with her boss anyway, this was the perfect opportunity. If he had to, he'd show up night after night. Just like in the beginning. When he'd first met her and she was all spitfire.

But he didn't want that girl. He wanted _Kate_. The woman he'd come to know, the one who sang along to the radio and danced when she thought no one was looking. The one who touched things and moved them around when she was nervous. And sometimes when she was bored, she reorganized his bookshelves and for the first time in his life, he let someone muss up his things and didn't fix them immediately. The one who hadn't tucked tail and run at the fact that he was a father; she'd calmed instead. And she'd treated his daughter with respect, answered all her silly questions, ate ice cream with her despite being upset with him.

That was the Kate he wanted. Not the prickly guarded stripper. He had to tell himself he would find her, she'd be fine and they'd work it out.

* * *

He'd been in enough that the bartender, Joe, nodded at him when he walked up. From what he knew, the man was decent enough. Slipped the girls some extra cash if they needed it and drinks on the house. So that was where he started.

"Your usual?"

"Not here for drinks tonight, man. Krissy?" It was hard to call her by that name, it felt wrong. He knew she was _Kate_ but he wouldn't kill her cover just because he needed to find her.

"She was here earlier, danced twice. Haven't seen her in an hour or so." The man shrugged as he filled a pitcher of beer, completely nonchalant with the information but it punched in the gut.

It twisted uncomfortably. She'd stripped again. He'd become so used to her being a server, liked it better. He thought she was safer that way. Not that she was safe here at all. And that was an altogether different assault on his nerves.

"Thanks. I'll check the back." He didn't ask. It wasn't a polite request. He was going back there regardless. And no one had ever stopped him before. Not after he'd greased a few palms. Which now sickened him, knowing that a man he'd slipped a few hundreds was the reason Kate had shown up at his door in the middle of the night. Beaten and bloody.

The anger surfaced. He'd kept a lid on it, he'd tried to respect her because she'd told him she could handle it. But that was before. Before she'd kissed him. Before she ran. Before he had to be in this hell hole to track her down because she was hiding from him.

And it was before he saw _him_. Standing in the office doorway, with the paint peeling off the panel. What was a brimming anger became a full assault when Vincent stepped in front of him. A cold look on his face that didn't match the suit or the overly slicked back hair.

"Sorry, pal." He reeked of smoke and cheap liquor. Nauseating combination. "Employees only. You're the reason she lost focus, why she became so defiant. No more playtime for the whore."

And those were the words that snapped his control. He'd tried. He had. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't stand back. He wasn't scared of "Vinnie" but he was terrified for Kate.

That was why he lost it, why he had her boss shoved to the wall and his arm at the man's throat. He ignored everyone buzzing out front, the catcalls and profanity flying at whichever girl was dancing. He hoped it wasn't Kate. But he didn't ease up. He pushed harder, felt an odd thrill rush down his spine when the man spluttered, when his face turned red.

"You don't talk about her. You don't touch her. You don't let anyone else touch her." He eased up just a little, just to make sure he had his attention. Didn't want to make him pass out before he nailed home his point. He leaned in until they were nose to nose. Until Vincent had no choice but to look him in the eye. "If she has one more bruise – I don't care if she trips and hits her leg against something – I will make sure you disappear."

He knew some guys, he could call in favors. He'd do that for her. He wouldn't feel a thing, no shame at all. No guilt for being part of it. And he hoped that showed in his eyes, in his features. He wasn't playing. Kate wasn't a plaything. She wasn't for amusement. He was serious.

"One single bump, even a scrape. You think you're powerful, you think you have these girls in line because you beat them or trade them. Use them. They fear you." He could see the hate, now directed at him. That was fine, he wanted it. "You leave her alone. She's not yours, she's mine and I'm not afraid."

He didn't say another word, just held him there until his face turned a shade of purple. It satisfied some of the rage. Then he let him drop, walked away as Vincent clutched at his neck and gasped for air. He hoped he hadn't made things worse but if he had, he wasn't above calling in those favors.

He'd met some shady characters in his line of work. Men ten times scarier and way more dangerous than a lowly drug pushing club owner. He knew people who knew people. He didn't look back, kept walking until he made it to the bend in the hallway, the corner with cracked tile floor that led to the tiny cramped space the strippers used for dressing. And undressing.

It was quiet, the door was partially closed. And he remembered when Kate told him that it wouldn't shut all the way, the hinges were bent. Just something she'd complained about once while he'd fixed her some lunch and asked questions. He paused for just a moment, thinking of the way she'd made a face, scrunched her nose as she explained how it made her uncomfortable because everyone just walked right in.

So he knocked. Just in case. Even though he'd accidentally seen quite a bit of her skin before due to the door not being closed. Or just her stripping. He was still a gentleman, she was still embarrassed and so he knocked.

He heard someone say "come in" but it wasn't her voice. It wasn't the smokey velvet tone that wrapped around his heart and made it beat erratically. His stomach dropped, he thought maybe she'd already left. He'd missed her and he'd have to try again.

But he pushed his way inside. Nodded at the unfamiliar woman applying makeup at the mirror. He didn't know that one. Didn't care to. He looked away, locked onto the couch and suddenly it wasn't just his stomach that hit the floor. Everything within him sank. He barely registered what he was seeing, barely recognized her.

"K-" He almost said it. Almost yelled her name. She was limp against the dirty cushions.

"She's been out for awhile." He ignored the woman as he rushed to kneel, to brush the tangles out of Kate's face. That was when he really took stock of their surroundings, of the pills digging into his knees, the bottle overturned. And the hollow sound the glass made as an empty pint of vodka rolled when he accidentally nudged it with his foot.

She was still. Silent. He leaned over her, panicked and confused. Not sure what was happening. He watched to see her chest rise but it didn't. He couldn't see it. She was in a sweater that swallowed her. Small and pale. So pale.

He slid his fingers to her neck, just below her jaw. Somehow calm enough to think, to feel the soft thud of her pulse. He felt the relief swamp him, make his limbs heavy and his eyes mist. And his stomach churned. He grabbed the pill bottle from the floor. _Prescription grade. Not hers. Painkillers._

"How much did she take?" He looked back at the woman as she smacked her lips, lipstick in hand and shrugged her shoulders.

"She passed out about an hour ago, after she finished off that pint." That didn't help him. That didn't tell him a goddamn thing. He didn't have time to count pills. Especially when it looked like whatever was left had made it onto the floor.

Hospital. He needed to get her out of here and to a hospital. He slid his arm under her, she didn't even move. Another beneath her knees. _The fuck did you do, Kate? What were you thinking?_ He pushed it down, he could be pissed later. When she was okay. Because she would be - she had to be.

He cradled her, shifted her higher to get a good hold on her. So light. Willowy, tall, strong and yet she felt lighter than the last time he'd carried her. Another thing he'd bring up as soon as he knew she was going to be okay. He took her out the back, walked right by Vincent's office and didn't give a damn, yelled out a sharp "fuck off" when the man tried to stop him.

He whispered her name once they were out, hoping for something. He told her she'd be okay, that he got her out, that he was right here and she needed to just open her eyes. She didn't. She didn't move a muscle. Not even when he got her in the passenger seat of his car. When he buckled her in and noticed for the first time that she didn't have shoes - that her legs were covered in fishnets instead of pants - and he sighed her name, she didn't wake up. He didn't have time to go back for her stuff.

And he hated himself and her for making this happen. When he sank into the drivers seat and fumbled to quickly fix his own seatbelt, he cursed at her. They'd think she was nothing more than a druggie at the hospital. That's exactly what she looked like. Or a street walker. He didn't know what would happen to her once they got there.

That scared him more than the sweat that was on her brow, the paleness in her skin.

"C'mon, Kate." He pressed his foot to the gas pedal. Reached over to touch her knee before he could remind himself that it wasn't appropriate. "Hold tight, just hang in there."

He was speeding, didn't care. He didn't slow down. Not until a red light caught him and there was a truck bigger than his car about to pull out. That was when he waited, when he hit the breaks and rubbed his thumb over the inside of her leg. Just by her knee.

"Sorry. Sorry, shhh." And then he froze. Realized he was shushing her because she'd gasped, moaned. "Kate, Kate can you hear me?"

Her eyes were scrunched as if she were in pain. And he squeezed her thigh, just to let her know she wasn't alone. Her features smoothed, her brow relaxing but her eyes didn't open.

"Kate? Hey, I'm taking you to the hospital. You're gonna be okay."

"No." It was barely audible. But he heard her. And then she went still again. He kept his palm on her leg, stroking and squeezing.

He fought himself. Warred inside his brain over what to do. And slapped the wheel in frustration when he didn't even make it two blocks before another light caught him. She was still breathing. He took it as a good sign. And when her fingers moved, he made the decision.

If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself for it. But he changed course. He headed home. She'd said 'no' and even if she wasn't coherent and that wasn't what she'd meant, he knew her. She'd be more comfortable in the loft. He had to believe she wasn't too bad off. She was moving now, and she'd spoke. He slid his hand over the top of her thigh, tangled his fingers through hers.

"Squeeze my hand." Her fingers twitched. "I mean it, Kate. Or I'm taking you to the hospital."

She squeezed hard. She understood. Her brain was still functioning, at least.

* * *

It wasn't her limp and lifeless form he entered the bedroom with. She was curled into him. Not necessarily aware of what was going on but he'd had her open her eyes in the elevator, made her try to keep them open. That part didn't work. They'd slipped shut in seconds, her muscles relaxing. Swimming in and out of consciousness and he told her right then that she better not die on his watch. If she'd been awake, he knew she would've just shook her head.

He eased her down on his favorite half of the bed, the blankets were already cast aside. He covered her, tried not to notice how her sweater rode up. He pulled the chair up and made himself comfortable. He shouldn't have brought her here, she wasn't okay. She was still pale and clammy.

He brushed her hair back, the pieces that had fallen from the braid. The damp ones stuck to her forehead. How many times would she end up unconscious in his bed? Not exactly the way he'd imagined things going.

But she was still breathing, steadily. And he could call nine-one-one if something changed. For all he knew, she was only drunkenly passed out. Maybe she hadn't taken anything. He didn't know. But part of him did. Some fragment inside of him knew she'd swallowed some of those pills.

He patted her cheek, watched her eyebrows bunch and then he pulled away. Rested back in the chair. He thought about turning out the lamp and then didn't. It wasn't as if she noticed anyway. He'd thought having a four year old was hard, thought it was the rambunctious little red head that would turn his hair gray but now he knew better. If anyone had him stressed enough to induce premature graying, it was Kate Beckett.

The anomaly he hadn't expected. Not that he'd expected Alexis either, or marrying her mother. Or the divorce. Okay maybe he should have expected that one. Marrying for the wrong reason hadn't worked out well for anyone. He still wondered sometimes if it was his fault, if he'd done something. If he was the reason Meredith didn't take to being a mother the way he'd hoped.

Nothing was easy. Writing took time, Alexis took time, the woman lying in his bed took time. And he was left with worry. Over everything. His career. His daughter. His...Kate. She was just Kate.

"Daddy?" He spun around, found his daughter's wide eyes staring. Shit. He hadn't thought this through. He never did. He was impulsive and now Alexis was tiptoeing into the room with a look of concern that he'd never seen on any four year old's face.

"Alexis, baby, what are you doing up?"

"I was thirsty. Why is -" He watched as she frowned and just pointed. He knew she was pointing to Kate and he said the first thing that came to mind. Something easy for a child to understand.

"She's sick. She just needs to rest and she doesn't have anyone to keep an eye on her so she came here." A complete and total lie that made his heart clench. She didn't come to him. And she wasn't sick. Not exactly.

"You know what that means." He didn't. But his serious faced child was about to clue him in. He failed to hide his smile when she stumbled over a few words. "We has to make cookies, Daddy. Her will feel better."

"_She_ will feel better."

"That's what I said." Alexis grabbed his hand, already tugging him out of the chair. He was torn. He didn't know if he should leave Kate unattended but his daughter was awake, it was early morning. Maybe three.

"Aren't you sleepy?"

"No." She yawned and he shook his head. They both knew she wasn't going back to bed until there were cookies. His fault. He always made them for her when she didn't feel well. "Cookies, Daddy. Let's go."

"Okay. Cookies it is." He tugged the ends of her braids playfully. And then he scooped her up, carried her into the kitchen and tried not to let her see how scared and angry he was feeling.

She was intuitive, bright. Brilliant. His perfectly smart and beautiful little girl. He let her find the mixing bowl before he sat her up on the counter. Listing ingredients out loud and using funny voices as he found them just to make her giggle. She improved his mood. Made things seem better.

He momentarily pushed aside everything and focused on her. On cracking eggs and adding butter into a bowl of what looked to be complete goop.

"What cookies, Cap'n Red? Chocolate chip?"

"No, cinbin."

"Cinnamon?" He wasn't sure she'd ever passed up chocolate chip before but she was nodding, her eyes sparkling. He grabbed the ground cinnamon from the cabinet and let her add it in.

He paused mid stir to watch her, the concentration on her face. The way she watched to make sure she got it just right. Her brow furrowed and those big blue eyes set on the task at hand. There was no greater pride than what he felt for her.

"Daddy," She glanced up at him, frowning. "You're s'pose to mix it."

"Oh, right, silly me." He stirred quickly for a few minutes, sighed dramatically when his arm was just too tired and let her take over. She liked to help.

He let her have at it for several minutes, busied himself with finding a cookie sheet and preheating the oven. And when he told her that it was time, she smiled big and sleepy. Rubbed the corner of one eye and said she was ready. He pointed and she placed spoonfuls of dough. Both of their fingers getting messier with each one and the cookies would be oddly shaped but he didn't mind. He figured their guest wouldn't either.

If she even stuck around long enough to eat any.

He put them in the oven. He didn't like his daughter near things that were hot. And then they washed up. Hands cleaned and the smudge of cinnamon wiped off her cheek, Alexis waited. She chattered while he washed the dishes they'd dirtied. She asked questions about Kate, things he simplified to terms a four year old could somewhat understand. Like why she didn't have anyone to take care of her. And why she didn't go to the doctor.

At one point she'd asked if Kate was gonna stay forever and he'd almost shattered the mixing bowl. Innocence was painted in every word she spoke, written all over her face. Just curious eyes that she rubbed at mercilessly. And he'd launched into a longer explanation. Explained that Kate was a friend and she could come over and play sometimes if she wanted but that she was very busy.

He was in the middle of talking in a circle and rinsing the bowl - getting back to the original question and away from things like how he didn't know if Kate would even be here in the morning – when he noticed Alexis was being too quiet. He looked up at her, found her stretched over the counter top, with her head on her hands and her eyes closed.

He left her for a moment, stopped talking and quickly checked the cookies. He pulled them out of the oven, didn't want them getting too brown and hardening. Alexis like mushy cookies. Warm and soft. So did he.

He left them cooling on top of the stove and then he carried his sleepy little princess back up to her room.

* * *

Kate woke hard. Her body trembled, her stomach rolled, and she felt her pulse beat steadily in her head. She hissed at the light when she tried to open her eyes. Disoriented, she rolled off the side of the bed, stumbled her way to her feet. She kept her eyes down and stared in the vicinity of her toes as she opened them again. Not as bright.

Not her floor. She held her head, tried to remember. Bits and pieces flashed through, had the ache behind her eyes worsening. Bottoms Up. She'd worked. Oh. _Oh. _She'd got her stripping gig back, worked it twice. Had stuffed the cash in her bag and then...

Her stomach rolled again when it slammed through her. She'd been drinking too much. She was in the loft. She'd wanted her chest to stop aching and she'd borrowed some painkillers. What was she doing in the loft? She felt the bile rise and pressed a hand to her mouth, ran straight to the bathroom.

Her knees barely hit the floor. Her muscles tensed, her back aching with it as she emptied her stomach. She coughed, choked, sputtered. Her body weak and not supportive. She was shaking hard, retch after retch tore through her in a never ending cycle. Her cheeks soaked with tears and the sweat poured. And it would calm, ease up just enough for her to suck in a breath and then another round hit.

Her abs hurt, her whole body hurt but finally it ended. Her stomach calmed enough that she could reach up, flush the toilet. She slumped over for a minute, just to catch her breath. Just because she was still shaking. She laid there, wiped her mouth, her forehead. Tried to think.

It hurt to think. The loft. She was at his loft. Why? And how, she was crashing at Bottoms Up tonight and then..._oh_. What day was it?

_I mean it, Kate. Or I'm taking you to the hospital. _

He'd come after her. That was the only thing that made sense but it ripped at her heart. Shredded off another piece of it as she thought about how she now had to face him again. She was weak in the knees and incredibly dizzy but she fought it off and forced herself to stand. She leaned against the sink and took one look at herself before she heard that voice in the back of her head. _This is why he doesn't want you. Who would? _

She jerked open the cabinet, bought herself some time by pulling out the spare toothbrush she'd used before. She didn't have to face him as long as she hid in the bathroom.

She stayed as long as possible, scrubbing her teeth three times. Rinsing her mouth five. And washing her hands. Her face. Going pee. Washing her hands again.

Nausea punched her in the gut again as she stumbled for the door. She hadn't shut it. She'd barely made it to the toilet but she just realized that it was closed. And that made everything so much worse. He'd heard. He'd seen. And she was glad he hadn't pushed his way in, she was. But she knew him and he'd probably wanted to.

She held onto the wall, opened the door and came face to face with him for the first time since she'd tried to seduce him. He was looming in the doorway, his eyes on her and she thought she was going to be sick again. He'd come after her.

"What the hell, Kate?" And apparently he was still pissed. She ducked around him, kept as far away as possible. Still wobbling and weak.

She needed to sit down. Everything was spinning. Hurting. She dropped onto the mattress, didn't care that she couldn't make it any further.

"What time -"

"The fuck if I know. I've been a little busy trying to make sure you stay alive."

"I didn't ask you -"

"Just hush for a minute, Kate. You haven't returned any of my calls, I've tried for three days." Every word he said, every time she accidentally looked at him and caught the blue of his eyes, it all cut through her. Straight down to bone. "I didn't know where you were, if you were okay. And I thought – I thought you were dead when I saw you."

"M'sorry." What else was there to say? She didn't know. But she was tired and still trembling. She was cold. She looked down at herself, bunched her fists inside her sleeves. No pants. No shoes. Huh. Her bag...she scanned the room. "My stuff?"

"Your stuff? Are you – have you been listening?" He stepped closer, she startled.

"I need my bag!" He didn't understand. He didn't get it. That was all she had. The things inside were important. Something in the air shifted, the tension lessened. And he eased down next to her, softer than before.

"Kate, I left it. I didn't even see it. I just...I only wanted to get you out." He touched her hand, she pulled it away. He just didn't understand. She needed it. She needed the money she'd put inside.

And most importantly, she needed the book with his name printed across it and his photo on the back of the jacket.

"I was fine." She ignored his scoff. Let herself fall back against the mattress, just too tired to sit up any longer. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have come here the other night. I messed up. I know that and I'm sorry."

"How many pills?" The bed shifted when he stood up. And she pressed her palms to her eyes to fight off the pain lingering behind them. She stayed silent. Biting her lip and listening as he rounded the bed. His footsteps closer. And then she heard him move the chair and drop. Not a soft steady ease down to the floor. A complete flop, an 'I'm done.' She knew exactly what those sounded like.

And she owed him. Big. Even if he didn't like her, if he hated her, she owed him. So she dropped her hands, opened her eyes and turned her head. He was sitting in the floor, his back against the bed. She was staring at his ear. He was close enough she could touch him if she wanted. She could nuzzle against him. But she remembered all too well a kiss that he hadn't reciprocated. She didn't need to embarrass herself further.

"Just two." It wasn't a lie. And the relief that washed over him was visible. His shoulders slumped, he turned to look at her and those eyes weren't as angry. Still mad but not quite livid anymore. "I wasn't thinking. I just took them and I'd been drinking. You were right. The other night. I'm just like him."

"No, Kate I was upset. I never should have -"

"She died." He got quiet, didn't say anything and she felt the tightness in her throat expand, already knew the tears would come. "My mother. She was murdered. In January."

"Ka-"

"It was the ninth and my dad and I were waiting for her at the restaurant. We were supposed to have a family dinner. She never came." Kate tried to suck in a breath, steady herself but it was hiccuped. Stuttered and she knew he'd heard. "There was a detective waiting for us outside the door when we got home."

Her voice cracked, the tears came and he shushed her gently, rocked up on his knees as she shook her head and tried to blink them away. His palm was warm when it settled on her cheek, his thumb soothing as it swiped beneath her eye. He leaned over her, offered some awkward kind of safety and she wanted to take it.

She wanted it. But he didn't want her. He didn't. He'd shoved her away.

But he was leaning closer, she was still sprawled over his mattress and he was coming closer. Whispering her name and wiping at her cheeks. He kissed her there, her skin still damp with tears.

"Kate," She was still confused, still trying to piece it together and her heart was aching. Broken open and bleeding. Her mom. She missed her mom and he was right. She was just as bad as her father...drowning herself in anything that could numb it.

She jolted when his nose nudged hers. But she turned into him, lips parting without her knowledge. Eyes clearing just enough to see his. Darkened by the lamp light, shining. Was he crying?

"Rick," Her heart was pounding, her stomach felt sick and her throat still felt too tight to speak. "Don't."

His thumb brushed her bottom lip, made it tremble, made her whimper.

"Please don't do this." It was enough to have him pull back just a fraction. But his breath was still panting against her mouth, warm and inviting. And she didn't know what to feel. Nervous, upset, excited? She was still heartbroken over her mom, opening up and telling him. And he didn't want her. He'd said so. "Don't do this if...if you don't want me. You said you didn't, you said -"

He cut her off but didn't say a word. She felt the warm soft press of his lips against her own. The gentle, coaxing pressure was patient, and not like any kiss she'd ever experienced. Like silk. Sweet. Everything she hadn't been when she'd thrown herself at him. He kissed her like she was worth something, and her fingers found his hair. She'd been so cold, shivering. And it stopped.

Barely a kiss. Soft brushes of his mouth that made her yearn for more but she didn't force it. Not this time. She kissed him back just as softly. The angle all wrong as he pushed himself up, tried to stay right there with her. She chased his mouth as he maneuvered around off the floor, as he joined her on the bed. His arms wrapped around her, pulled her in and then it was right. It was warm.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. **

**A/N: Two things: I didn't forget about posting this. I was horribly ill. Still recovering. Also, interesting things have happened in my life lately and expect more on that soon. **

At some point hands had wandered. She felt his warm skin beneath her fingertips, realized she'd slipped them beneath his shirt mid kiss. Somewhere between him softly sucking at her bottom lip and her nipping at his. And now he was staring again. Barely inches away and just staring. Blue eyes open and she could see the worry, the fear, the way they darkened. And then she dropped her gaze back to his mouth. Wet, pink, hot and she wanted it back on hers, on her skin. Anywhere as long as he didn't stop.

It curled in her stomach, pooled low. A rush of liquid heat between her thighs. But he just stared at her, something gentle smoothing over his face.

"I'm sorry, Kate." His thumb rubbed at her cheek, smudging away the last of her tears and her stomach rolled uncomfortably.

She didn't move, wasn't sure she even breathed. She was silent, waiting, frowning up at him. Her head was aching and everything was still fuzzy, she didn't understand the sorrow in his tone or why he looked at her as though he didn't know what to do.

And then she heard him repeat it, the apology and she tensed, her hands dropped and she felt her heart slam into her ribs and drop down to her toes.

"No, no, not for...not for this. I'm so sorry you lost your mother."

It was weird. All of it. That she'd told him. That he'd kissed her and she'd kissed him back. And she'd expected him to push her away, give her some excuse for why they couldn't continue but he wasn't. He was rubbing her hip with one hand and stroking through the ratted pieces of hair that escaped her braid with the other.

It didn't hurt as bad with him around. The ache that had splintered her chest and left her cracked open since the night her mother died. Not even when he slowly sat up, abandoning her, letting cool air drift between them. It sent a chill up her legs. Fishnets were not the warmest and she was still too unsure of what was happening to reach for him, pull him back. No matter how much she wanted it...wanted him.

"Wha-"

"She was murdered?" Oh. He wanted to know. He cared enough to ask, to want more than the basics and it ripped at her soul and soothed all at once.

And with a deep breath, Kate nodded. It was time. Time to tell someone and he would be her someone. She didn't have anyone else and he'd just...he'd kissed her. Over and over. Softly, sweet and gentle as if she were more than just a girl, just a stripper, just a motherless daughter. That had to mean something.

She pushed herself up, brought them back to being nose to nose. She wanted him closer, she didn't want to lose whatever it was that had just happened between them.

"Stabbed. In an alley and just...just left there." She leaned into him, needed the support that he offered. That she always felt with him, before the incident. Before she'd shown up three sheets to the wind and thrown herself at him. He made her feel again. "The killer wa- hasn't been caught yet."

"Kate,"

"They said it was random gang violence."

"But you don't believe that." It wasn't a question. And when she caught his gaze, she didn't see judgment or pity.

"No. My dad does, he's let it drive him into a bottle. He lost his job. He was a lawyer and so was my mother. I don't know if he's actually even aware of anything. If he understands that I'm paying for my motorcycle, the cabin, the house...and a variety of bills because my savings, everything we had is gone. I don't even know what happened to any of it."

"That's how you ended up working as a stripper."

"Yeah. Waitressing wasn't cutting it and even with both jobs and some nights bringing in four hundred dollars or so, it's not – I'm not trying to make excuses for what I've done." She wasn't. Not really. There wasn't anything she could say to make it better. To hide the fact that she'd been stupid and immature and thought getting wasted would do anything but make it worse. Even after she'd seen first hand what it did to people.

How it tore families apart.

"I don't want to be like him." Her whispered words shocked them both. Had her tensing and removing her hand from his thigh as if he'd slapped her fingers.

"You're not." It was soft, everything about him was soft. The slump of his shoulders, the look in his eyes, the touch he pressed to her side until she could feel the heat of his palm through her sweater. And the bump of his nose against hers. "I won't let you be."

"I -" She didn't know what to say, how to tell him thank you or ask why. Why her? He was something and she was nothing. He had money and she didn't. He was a father and a good guy and she took her clothes off and let men shove dollars at her for it.

But he liked her. She knew that much, he wouldn't have kissed her otherwise. And his hand was currently on the move to rub up her spine, leave her tingling and heat flushing her skin. He had to like her. She wanted him to kiss her again, make her forget. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to know if those fingers of his were as talented at touching as they were at typing.

Sucking in a breath, she nudged closer, gauged his reaction but before she could close the distance and feel his lips against hers again, he was leaning back...away.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"Wha-" He was off the bed and tugging her up before she could finish her thought.

"You like cookies? Wait, dumb question. Everyone likes cookies." His hand stayed wrapped around hers, pulling her along as her feet stumbled after him.

She wasn't thinking of food. Or cookies. She was thinking of him. Of being with him. But her head was spinning and aching, her stomach still sickly and uneasy.

And somehow she ended up with her butt planted on the kitchen floor and her back against the cabinet. With him right beside her and a plate of cookies on his legs, she wasn't entirely sure how they'd managed to go from kissing, to talking, to...this.

She munched on a cookie anyway, admitted that it felt good to get something in her belly. And the cinnamon seemed to help take some of the nausea away. They were still warm, still moist and perfect. Her mother had always made the best cookies but these weren't bad.

"So your dad -"

"Do we really have to talk about it right now?" Kate didn't want to, not...not after she'd already trudged it all up. "I'm not saying we can't, I...can we just enjoy these cookies and each other."

The last of it was nothing more than a whisper that had her cheeks turning red. She didn't know if that was something he wanted to do but it'd sure felt like it. Then his answer came and it was just as soft.

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Good."

"Good." He was staring again. She ducked her head, finished off her cookie with her lips tilted in a smile. "I uh, I'm glad you're not allergic to cinnamon."

And just like that, he had her laughing. She shook her head, bumped his shoulder with hers and waited till he nudged her back. It wasn't as awkward as she thought it'd be. He was still her friend.

"When did you make these?"

"Uh...not too long ago. Alexis insisted." That had her perking up, looking up at him with a question in her eyes and her mouth busy chewing. "She was thirsty and came down, I told her you were sick and then we had to bake you cookies."

"I'm sorry, I -"

"It's over. We can say it's in the past."

"It was just a few hours ago, Rick, I never meant to bring this anywhere near her." She hadn't. She'd tried not to. She'd avoided it at all costs and now it was choking her again. The fact that he was a father with a young daughter and she was just bad news clogged her airway, made it hard to suck in the next breath.

"I brought you here, I want you here. I need to know you'll be okay and she's four, she doesn't know what's going on. She thinks you have a cold or something and you should have seen how excited she was to bake you these cookies." He brushed it off, told her it was okay but she didn't think it was. Nothing about it was okay.

"You're a really good father." She watched him carefully, took in the way he shrugged and the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. "You are. I thought you were this...huge dick when we met and I still kind of thought that when I came to work for you but then I saw that photo and the way you protected her from me, from someone you didn't know and things changed."

She started thinking of him as more than an attractive man with piercing eyes. He'd become softer and kinder in that moment. And now she was getting to see all of it up close and personal.

"She's everything to me, Kate. I wasn't ready to be a dad, I'm not sure anyone ever is but I do the best I can."

Mid-reach for another cookie, she stopped and her eyes met his. And she couldn't help but lean in, he talked with so much love for his little girl and she just yearned for him. She paused inches from him with her eyes wide open and watching his darken.

"Is this...are we -" He swallowed her words, his lips taking over hers and the plate of cookies slid to the floor. Forgotten.

He tasted of cinnamon when her lips parted, when he slicked his tongue around hers and she moaned against him. Her legs pushing up, her knees inching closer until he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her down as she moved to straddle him.

And it was hands searching, hers clinging to his biceps and his toying with the fishnets that covered her thighs. She went dizzy with need, with the desire to taste more of him. These weren't the soft gentle kisses they'd shared earlier. She was starving for it, for the way his lips pushed at hers, the nip of his teeth over her chin when he dragged his mouth away from hers.

Her hips jerked when he sucked at her pulse, when his tongue ghosted over it and her fingers clenched in his hair. Then he stopped. His lips stilled on her skin and she held him there, didn't want him to pull back. She was panting already and could feel every breath he let out. Just as labored.

She rocked into him, felt his whole body stiffen. Yeah, he wanted her too. She could feel him pressed into her. And that made her brave, made her stroke over the back of his neck, turn to nip at his earlobe.

But he held her tighter, his fingertips dug in and he whispered one word. "Alexis."

Kate froze. Every muscle in her body strung taut as she stared at him.

"I-I should probably head home." She didn't want to but it had been days. Days and she had no idea how her father was doing or if he was okay. "I haven't been back since -"

"No, Kate. You're not going anywhere this late. I just meant that Alexis could wake up and we shouldn't be groping in the kitchen." He drew back far enough to catch her gaze and she felt a shiver race down her spine.

He looked as heated as she felt. And all she could think about was groping. His hands sliding beneath her sweater, pulling it off, his skin on hers. It'd been awhile for her, and she probably wasn't his level of experienced but she wanted him.

And he was staring at her, undressing her with his eyes and he wanted her too.

Nerves jumped beneath her skin when he gently slid her off his lap and helped her up. He bent to pick up the plate they'd pushed aside. And then he was twining his fingers through hers and leading her along just like he'd led her into the kitchen. She didn't mind so much.

Until they were back in the dimly lit bedroom – the orange glow of the lamp highlighted the bed and her eyes glued themselves it. She inhaled, tried to calm herself and startled when he touched her shoulder.

"Sorry. We should get some sleep."

"Sleep?" It came out drenched in disbelief and she shifted her hips, rubbed her thighs together. She almost moaned at the friction, the heat that was still raging. She wasn't thinking of sleep.

"Your head is hurting, you're still wobbling like a weeble and -"

"I'm fine." She was. She was more than fine. She was turned on and staring at his bed, imagining all the things they could do. "I feel fine."

She'd thought they would never do this. She'd been so sure she would never see him again unless it was on the back of a book jacket. But she went willingly when he led her over and coaxed her down onto the mattress.

She made room for him, bit at her lip as she eyed him and then in a move that was far more bold than she felt, she reached for his pant leg and tugged. He warred with it, she could see it and then he growled out her name, tumbled down with her.

She kissed him. She initiated it with what she'd intended to be a heated kiss, a quick slide of her tongue across the seam of his lips but he pinned her. Gentled her. He took the control and she let him have it.

Her sweater went first. Lost to the floor and she craned her body back up to his, holding his face in her palms and crashing their mouths together. She wanted him, was ready for him. He pried her fingers away, rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles and trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Slow and steady.

Her blood boiled, her breathing labored and she whimpered before his lips ever made it over her breast. She'd been with guys before, knew what came next. The sharp teeth and hard sucking, the greedy hands that pushed at her fishnets and then fast, hard sex that left her muscles tense and her body sweaty.

Except that wasn't what happened. He lavished her, softly. Tender touches of his tongue that had her arching hard, pushing her nipple further into his mouth. Seeking the pain that came with a bite. He didn't clamp down, he barely scraped his teeth against her. And it wasn't until she tried to claw at his shoulders that she realized he was still dressed.

She parted her lips, ready to ask why when his mouth traveled south. Down her stomach, tongue swirling around her navel and taking a direct course over to the dip above her hip bone. And then he sucked. She tugged at his hair, tried to pull him back or force him closer, she didn't know. He had her thrashing and he'd barely touched her.

"I – god!"

"Shh, easy." His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her fishnets and her vision went blurry. She clenched her thighs, her hips chased his mouth and she felt the rumble that came from within him when he realized she didn't have anything on beneath. "Kate, fuck."

Her eyes were heavy lidded, barely open when he pulled them down, when his gaze sparked as he saw something he found interesting. She knew what it was the moment he had her bare. When his fingers skimmed up the inside of her thigh and left her moaning.

The tattoo. The one just below decency. The phoenix she'd had inked into her skin. He tugged his shirt off and she waited for it, for him to strip down and just thrust into her, to hear their skin slap.

He didn't. He confused her.

When he was bare, when the boxers had been kicked away and she could see him, hard and ready, he did something that no one ever had. He slid between her thighs, pushed one up over his shoulder and dipped his head. He started with the color permanently etched into her flesh, his tongue tracing the length of the wing, sliding down, following the swirl of feathers that gathered as the tail and she was rocking into him.

Shameless and needy. His mouth so close. And she felt his moan, felt the very moment he'd dipped to the very last feather, when he tasted her. She threw her head back into the pillow, clawed at the sheet and almost sobbed out his name. One flick of his tongue over her and she was panting hard, couldn't catch her breath.

Shapes and swirls appeared behind her eyelids as she clenched them shut. She'd never felt this. No one had ever...and he was. He was. His face was buried between her thighs and she was arching into him, wanting more. Faster, harder, something.

He lapped at her, sucked, and then his fingers joined, slid inside and curled and she clamped her legs tight over his ears. He stopped and no, no, no. That wasn't what she wanted.

"Ri-"

"Breathe, Kate." He kissed just above her clit. Soft and gentle. "Easy, just breathe."

She nodded, gulped in the air as if she'd been holding her breath. Oh. Maybe she had. And relaxed enough that he could move again. That was all he needed. Just that small moment. Her body was brimming with it, with the way he touched her. With the way his fingers moved inside her and his mouth tasted, and scraped. His stubble rubbed.

She tried to calm herself, tried not to thrust up into him. She really did but somewhere between the tightening in her abdomen and the realization that he was going to make her come, she lost that control. Completely.

She'd had sex. She'd had boys do a variety of things but never that. And she'd never...no one had ever given her an orgasm. No one besides herself. But she could feel it. Bubbling into a blaze. Starting in her core and traveling out to each limb.

She came unexpectedly, a sharp burst that had his name pouring from her mouth and her hands buried in his hair. Everything faded out, her muscles clenched, her body bowed.

He was whispering her name, asking if she was okay when she finally opened her eyes, looming above her. No longer south of her navel. He was staring down at her, brushing her hair back, his body draped deliciously over hers. Hot and hard and heavy. An intoxicating scent lingered, the musk of sex thick between them and she was drawn to it. Powerless to resist, she sought his mouth, flicked her tongue over his bottom lip, pulled it between her teeth.

Whispered 'now' into him. Letting him taste her desperation as she tasted herself. He pulled away long enough to search a drawer, to find a condom and she felt that nervousness kick back in. But as soon as he settled back over her, nudged her thighs open, it disappeared.

She dug her nails into his back, wrapped her legs around his waist and waited. This was the part she was good at, the part where she knew what to do, how to clench her muscles, how to twist her hips but she wasn't prepared for him.

She was prepared for a quick fuck, a fleeting mating of their bodies. She was not ready for the slow thrust, the way he stretched her until she was gasping. The slight discomfort that came with it or how he nudged her nose, asked if she was alright. He kept asking that and she didn't understand. She dug her heels into his ass in answer. Begged him to move with a twist of her hips that had him groaning.

And he did. Gently. Rocking into her, even when she pushed up against him, harder, faster. He grabbed her hands, threaded his fingers through hers, kissed her. But he didn't pick up the pace. Kept it long and deep. A slick slide of friction that had a familiar stirring in her stomach, in her core.

The buzz of it becoming more defined with each thrust. He kept his eyes on her, even when she'd closed hers. She could feel it. His stare. She could feel everything. The sting from her body not being used to his invading it. The pull when he slid back out. The rub of his pubic bone against hers. Every puff of air that left his lips and blew softly against her face.

She clawed at him, wanted something harder. Whispered to him, whimpered for more. He held steady. Her thighs trembled.

Sweat pooled between them, slicked over her skin. And then he dropped his mouth to her neck, his hips moved just a little faster and she met every thrust. Stopped trying to speed it up. Stopped hoping for harder because the ache was building. Slow and delicious in her loins.

One hand closed over her breast and she lost every thought. Her mind blanked and all she could do was chant his name. Over and over. Between stolen kisses and biting at his jaw. Her body quaked, quivered, her walls fluttered around him and she broke apart slowly, long and deep. Something she'd never experienced.

She felt it in her bones. And she clung to him. Shaking like a leaf in the wind as he thrust twice, pulled her close, buried deep inside and held her there.

She was still trembling when he pulled away, when he rolled to the side. He disappeared and she barely noticed. She didn't actually, until he was back. Until he kissed her forehead and tucked her beneath his chin. She barely moved, her legs felt heavy, her entire body felt heavy and he asked again if she was okay.

"Why do you keep asking that?" Her voice cracked, and she burrowed into him. The awkwardness of earlier completely gone. Her body still aching from him, nerves still jumping.

"I..I didn't know how many times you'd ever -"

"Had sex?"

"Yeah. That." She chuckled against him, stroked her hand over his chest. For a writer, he was sure having a hard time finding words.

"You didn't hurt me. Quite the opposite."

"Okay." He seemed content with that. Relaxed. She slid her thigh over his hip, nuzzled his jaw until he turned and their lips met. "Get some rest. Alexis is an early riser."

It was already morning. But she didn't point it out. Nor did it bother her that he probably wanted her gone before his daughter woke. It was fine because they were...something. She didn't know what that something was.

* * *

Kate woke to the view of the wall. Her head pounding and eyes so heavy she could barely keep them open. There was a warm solid body pressed to her back and a dull ache between her thighs. She smiled then, remembered what had happened. He'd tracked her down. Taken care of her, fought with her until she couldn't do it anymore.

And then he'd picked up the pieces as if they were his own. He hadn't judged, hadn't told her to leave and never come back. He'd kissed her. And they'd...it wasn't sex. Not like anything she'd participated in before. It'd been sweet and powerful.

She felt his nose press to her shoulder, then his lips. And again to the side of her neck. She turned to face him, rolled onto her side and put a few inches between their bodies.

"Hey," He was smiling as he said it.

"Hey,"

"So we -" He didn't even finish his statement before he was smiling again. And she took that as a good sign. He wasn't regretting it.

"Yeah. Is...is that okay?"

"It was more than just okay, Kate." Every slight insecurity she'd had vanished. "But if we're doing this, we're doing it right."

"This?"

"Dating." And this time she was the one smiling, bright and sleepy. "I don't care about your job, or your dad. I care about you and I want to know you better, I want you to get to know Alexis."

"Okay, then how do we do this? Should I get dressed and go because I don't really know what it says if she finds me here when she wakes up."

"You should get dressed. We should both get dressed but stay for breakfast. I'll take you home after." That was something she hadn't thought about. Him taking her home. He would see firsthand and it scared her but she didn't say anything. "Oh, your stuff is in the living room. I uh...you fell asleep and I took a little trip."

"You went back and got my bag?" He didn't say anything, just shrugged a shoulder and she reached for him, slid her palm over his cheek. He understood that it was important to her. Something she'd assumed he didn't. "Thank you."

"You know I accidentally saw the book inside."

"Accidentally?"

"Complete accident."

"It's a good book." And that was as far as she'd go. She wasn't quite ready to share that she'd spent the last few days buried in that book, crying and thinking she'd never get to be any closer to him. "I don't know how to...I'm not good at relationships."

"Neither am I."

"So what are we doing?"

"Taking it a day at a time, I guess. Just figuring things out. We don't have to be perfect, Kate." His fingers skimmed over her hip, slid around to pull her closer and she let him.

Whenever he told her something, she believed it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Definitely not mine.**

**A/N: I recently stated why updates have been stretched out and unreliable for basically the whole year on my tumblr...I'll post here too. **

**I've had a lot of medical things going on. Surgeries and stuff. Then life stuff mixed in with all of that. I don't want a huge author's note so I'll just say it like this: cancer can fuck off.**

**This is also the reason I cannot guarantee updates. **

**This chapter I'm dedicating to Charlotte for setting up a gofund for me to help cover medical costs. That's probably the sweetest thing ever and I'm very thankful you did that. I was very honored to find out about it. I honestly never expected the support I've received in just the time since I made the post opening up about the last several months.**

* * *

Things were different. Some things. Kate had to admit she was happier than she had been in awhile. Not quite back to how she once was but she was better than a week ago. And she knew she'd never be the same person she used to be. The cruel injustice of murder had made that impossible.

But a single week and everything had changed. Well...not everything. She still stripped. Her father still drank himself to oblivion. She was still struggling and tired.

But then there was Rick. Just thinking of him put a smile on her face and now she didn't have to hide it. She didn't even try. She shoved her hands in the pockets of his jacket and watched the numbers light up on the elevator panel. She hadn't taken the time to change or do anything with her hair. She was still wearing the uniform, the apron with a pocketful of tips. Her hair in a low ponytail that was more than a little disheveled.

She'd picked up an extra shift. An evening one that didn't interfere with her work at Bottoms Up and while the money was better during dinner rush, her feet were aching and she was exhausted. And yet, she was still in his elevator, on the way to see him. He'd asked her on a date and she'd had to break the news that she was working but instead of backing out, he'd changed tactics and invited her for a late dinner. One he promised would be to her liking.

She really hoped that meant Chinese. And sex. She'd do anything for some fried rice and some sweaty sex.

They'd only been together twice. It hadn't been nearly enough. Not for her. Not when he'd blown every lover she'd had out of the water. He'd scared her, he still scared her. He was soft and gentle, attentive and she wasn't used to that. But she craved it. She craved _him. _

She liked the way he'd panted her name against her ear, loved his fingers roaming and coaxing moans, and she'd liked after. The way he held her, tightened his hold when she'd tried to move. That was nice.

The elevator dinged and she bit her lip, stepped through the doors and headed for his. They'd talked the last time she'd been over, instead of kissing, instead of other _activities. _They had just talked. Okay, so they'd made out a little too but mostly they'd talked and she hadn't had anyone to talk to in so long.

She'd spilled more about herself and he'd listened quietly. Not something she'd thought him capable of but he was. He could be patient and quiet when it mattered.

It didn't make any sense to her, that he wanted her, that he liked her but she stopped questioning it. She pushed aside the doubts and the fear that it would implode and she kept taking it one day at a time. Spending nights on the phone with him once she made it home. It didn't escape her notice that he no longer showed up at the club. He never talked about it either. Other than commenting that she'd healed nicely and her bruising had mostly cleared.

She knew he hated it. And still she couldn't quit. She just...couldn't. She tried not to think about it and tapped her knuckles against his door.

Excitement raced in her blood, kept her bouncing on her toes and god, she was being ridiculous. But it'd been three days since she'd seen him and she was more than ready for those soft blue eyes. She already felt the fluttering in her stomach, knew the heat beneath her skin would migrate and pool between her thighs as soon as he smiled.

Because she knew what that mouth was capable of. And she was ready for it.

Except that wasn't what happened at all. As soon as the door opened and her eyes gazed up into his, it wasn't lust or need that swamped her, but amusement. Affection. Something easy and warm that settled bone deep as he rubbed the corner of one eye and stifled a yawn. The lines on his cheek telling her that he'd fallen asleep waiting for her.

Kate was pretty sure the marks over half his face were from a keyboard, writing. He'd probably been writing. But then he did smile, and the heat did travel south and she beamed back, unable to keep it locked away when his voice, rough with sleep, met her ears.

"Kate, hey." Surprise laced within her name and she knew he'd been writing, forgotten what day it was. She stepped closer. A little cautious, not wanting to invite herself into his home.

"Hey." She didn't close the distance between them, even when her eyes flicked down to his lips. "I'm a little late."

She wasn't. Not really. She'd told him it would be late by the time she finished her shift and he'd still insisted. And even now, he shook his head, shrugged it off.

He reached first. His hand finding hers, fingers wrapping around and tugging until she stumbled the last couple steps between them. She locked on, didn't let go and her free hand quickly occupied itself with gripping onto his bicep. Eyes fluttered when he nudged her nose with his, when she could feel his breath in soft puffs against her lips.

Everything faded away. The stress of the day, the worry over tomorrow, money, her dad. All of it just stopped and this time when he spoke, she felt it.

"Hey."

"Hey." She barely got it out, barely managed before his mouth was on hers. Hot and open and perfect. She melted into it, let him coax her into the loft with his teeth and tongue. Her body following his, mouths never breaking apart.

She kissed him like she'd wanted to all day. A little rough with it, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth and latching on. Her hands dragged down his ribs and rucking up his shirt, hungry for skin. He let her, joined in.

And she knew later, there would be a joke about her retro style yellow dress, the fact that she still had her apron tied around her waist. But now, he had no complaints. His lips caressed hers, slowing it down, easing off. And he did, with a gentle kiss that had her chasing him for more when he broke away.

"Food." It was mumbled between them. His breathing a little ragged when she scraped her nails over his stomach. "Jesus, Kate, food. I made -"

"Not hungry." She was but it would wait. She worked with food all day and she sometimes swiped fries from plates before she delivered them to the tables. Her little secret.

"Mac and cheese." It took her a second, to be sure she heard him correctly. To clear her deliciously dirty thoughts about the couch that sat just a few feet away. And then she perked up, pulled away to stare into his face, her brow raising in surprise and lips twitching.

"You made me macaroni and cheese?"

"You said it was going to be a long day, I just...I thought maybe comfort food would be..." he trailed off with a shrug and shy smile. Something she'd never known him to be. It twisted in her stomach, tightened the coil of arousal burning in her loins.

"That's perfect." And because it was, her hands dropped and her stomach growled. She'd eat. He'd put in the thought and the time.

Her bag dropped from her shoulder with a clunk as it hit the floor. She'd forgotten about it. About everything. The ache in her feet and legs, the way exhaustion was overtaking her muscles and making them feel heavy. It rushed back in as he stepped away, and then dulled just a little when his palm pressed into the curve of her spine, guiding her.

She hadn't even looked, she'd been so busy with him, her lips against his that she hadn't noticed the lighting. The soft glow and now that her attention was on the kitchen, she let out a little gasp of surprise. Candles. Not lit but there were candles.

He pulled out the bar stool for her and she raised an eyebrow at him before she sat. She felt underdressed. Even in his home, she felt as though she should have changed, spruced up a bit. He had. She hadn't noticed that either. The dark jeans, the black v-neck. His bare feet. He looked a million times better than she did and it stuck in her gut. This was still a date and she was wearing an apron and a stupid dress that she hated with white keds that were dingy and needed to be washed.

He lit the candles and she smiled at him. He poured her a glass of wine without mentioning that just a week ago, she'd been wasted and almost ruined everything. But it remained a heaviness in the air until he pulled two plates from the oven.

He hadn't said anything, but he made a show of pulling off the aluminum foil he'd put over the food. Winking at her when she grinned. It wasn't just mac and cheese, there were steamed veggies on the side. He'd put more work into it than she'd thought.

And she was hungrier just from smelling it.

She dug in as soon as he'd set the plate in front of her, not even waiting for him to sit next to her. Feeling rude and embarrassed as soon as she realized it. He didn't seem to care but she did. So she paused mid bite, until he was seated.

They ate slowly, savoring it. Talking about her day and his. How he'd fallen asleep on accident after getting a rather rambunctious four year old down for the count. And she loved this. Just sharing medial things. Things that didn't matter. But somehow they did. They mattered. Because it was away from her own problems, a distraction and she wanted to know more about him. About his family.

He was in the middle of a story about Alexis playing at the park and she was lost in thoughts of whether or not she was a good person to be around such an impressionable young one. Did she even want that? The girl was a delight, a bright soul with questioning eyes and a kind heart but did Kate want to be part of her life? She didn't know how to answer that. So she listened. And she ate her food. Relishing the cheesy explosion in her mouth and telling herself that she didn't need to do anything more than be with him.

It was enough.

For now, it was enough. Just him, with his wildly childish ways and the flicker of pride in his eyes when he talked about his daughter. It was enough and she wasn't going to run.

The dishes were left for the night, her wine gone and his too. He didn't offer more and she didn't ask. That subject was probably still too touchy. At least, she figured it was so she wasn't bringing it up.

She waited for him to round the counter from clearing things away and reached for his hand. Nerves jumped in her belly when his features went soft. Tender. Three days since she'd seen him. Longer since he'd been inside her. She wasn't sure it was normal to be this needy, to want to hold his hand, touch him, thread their fingers together.

But she did it anyway and he watched. Gentle and warm. He didn't sit back down, but she wouldn't have let him anyway. She wanted close. This was still new and exciting and she wanted more. Feeling brave, she hooked one foot behind his knee and pulled him in. He didn't protest, he participated, slid his hand through her ponytail. Tugged just a little at the ends.

"I want you." It startled them both as soon as it slipped off her tongue. But she didn't take it back. He leaned into her, one arm snaking around her waist. She bit back a moan when he lifted her from the bar stool, not ready to reveal just how ready she was for him.

Both legs tightened on his hips, and yes. Yes, this was exactly what she needed after a long day. With her skirt bunched high on her thighs and his breath mingling with hers, she lifted into him. Rocked her hips just a little, just enough to have his fingers pinching her ass and his nose pressing into her neck.

And then he was smiling, she could feel it.

"You smell like french fries." Oh god. Not what she wanted to hear. But he chuckled and tightened his hold.

"Sorry, I should have changed." He shook his head, pressed a kiss to her chin. She squeezed him, held him. Felt the warmth of his body on hers, the strength in his muscles when he started walking. And she clung just a bit more, hoped he wouldn't drop her.

He didn't. And he didn't stop until they'd made it through the bedroom, straight into his bathroom. Trading kisses over skin. Cheeks, necks, jawlines.

He sat her on the counter just like he had the night she'd shown up battered and bleeding. But this time she clenched her fists in his shirt when he tried to pull away.

"Shower, if you want. Personally, I like that you smell of fried food." She let him move because she did want a shower. One with him.

Wet skin and water sluicing. Soap and bodies and yes, she wanted that. She watched with curious eyes as he switched on the water, held out his hand until he was satisfied with the temperature. It was oddly sexy. He was just oddly sexy. Pure male.

She kicked off her shoes and her socks. Bit her lip when he bent to grab something. The man had a magnificent ass. And then he turned, caught her checking him out and her cheeks flushed. Her core tightened, she felt the slickness between her thighs and she wasn't shy about this part. About stripping in front of him.

She hopped off the counter, let her apron fall first. Followed by the dress. He'd dressed for her and she'd worn her uniform. She wasn't good at this dating thing but she could manage getting naked just fine. Smirking at him when he followed her example and let his shirt hit the floor.

And then he was on her. No longer soft and tender but open and hot and wanting. Tongues colliding, fingers gripping. He shoved her panties down, unsnapped her bra with proficiency. She was bare before she'd even slid a hand to the button on his jeans.

She pushed at them, desperate for his skin. Sighing into his mouth when they fell. He stepped in first, the water sliding down his shoulders, she watched the rivers on his skin travel south as he tugged the hair tie from her locks.

"Kate," Just her name had her shivering. She followed him in, goosebumps on her skin when the hot water hit her. It wasn't nearly as searing as him.

She barely touched his chest, just her fingertips brushing his nipple and he had her against the tile. Cold, freezing tile against her back and his body pressed to her front. His teeth bit at her collarbone, his tongue soothed the sting. And she arched into him.

Whimpering, sighing his name. Over and over when his mouth sucked at her breast. And she could feel him hard against her belly. Hot and pulsing. Need driving them both. Need. And maybe she felt something a little deeper. Something that twined in her chest when his fingers slipped down to cup her.

She jerked against him, ready and aching. She wanted him. She'd been wanting him.

"God, no. Now. Just..." He swallowed her words, stroked her despite her protest and she dissolved into incoherent babbles. The slide of his fingertips, the way he circled her clit, he touched her as if he were made to do nothing else.

And she needed more.

She felt the coil tighten, threaten to snap and she didn't want to break apart just yet. Not yet. Not when he'd barely started. She needed him inside her first. Her nails dug into his back, her hips chasing his hand when he pulled it away.

Then he was there, hot and hard, nudging inside and god yes. He filled her, slowly. Surely. Fully. Her legs twined around him and their skin kissed. He stayed there, buried deep as she panted, as she clung to him. His name was on her lips and then his mouth smothered it away. It was different this time. Everything was different. From the water pounding down, to the first quick thrust that had her moaning.

Faster. It was faster and she was ready. Meeting him. Bodies sliding, wet and willing. Skin against skin. His hand closing over her breast, his mouth sucking at hers and the thick heavy push of him inside. It was enough.

Enough to have her whimpering, clawing at his back, and sliding her hands down to grip his ass. She was braver, louder, his name a chant with every obscene wet slap of their hips. Fast and steady. Only faltering when she felt the first pulse of her orgasm. She knew it was coming. She'd be coming. Seconds.

She let go. She wasn't shy this time. Not about this. She slid her hand between them, her fingers rubbing just above where they were joined. Where he stretched her. She circled her clit, faster with every flutter that tightened her abs. Her muscles tensed, one by one. Her body strung taut and with a nip of her jaw and one well positioned thrust, she came. Shattering around him, crying out, clenching him, and still he didn't stop.

He drew it out for her, slid his fingers down to join hers. Circled slowly, careful not to overdo it. Just enough to have her writhing. Pleasure bursting through her blood. His chest heavy against hers, holding her up and she went blind, limp, deaf. She was pretty sure every single one of her senses disappeared when he pressed hard and deep, groaning out her name as he spilled inside her.

Minutes passed. She didn't know how many or how long they stayed under the spray of the shower like that. Slumped against each other. But he held her tight, both arms wrapped around her, and she cradled his cheek in the palm of her hand, panting against his lips. Neither of them moved.

It took her brain a while to fire back up, to process what had just happened. She was still fluttering around him, aftershocks that had her toes curling. And then it smacked into her, the fact that she'd just let a man fuck her without a condom. She pushed down the fear that threatened to choke her and just pressed her mouth against his. Softer now.

He was different. He wasn't anything like the boys she'd slept with before. He was more than they could ever hope to be. And she was covered. She let it go. She didn't ruin their moment. Well...not completely.

"Don't drop me, kay?" She wasn't sure her legs would be strong enough to catch her. She was pretty sure they were trembling. Or maybe he was trembling.

"I've got you."

She knew his words meant more. She knew he wasn't just talking about holding her in the shower after sex. She let that go too. For now.

He was better at this than she was. The date. That was all him. Candles and food. She wasn't good at things like that. And she hadn't even put on any makeup. Her hair had been a ratty ponytail. She was already failing.

But when he finally let her stand on her own, he took the soap and started with the tips of her fingers. He lathered her, slowly. Working her back up. And nothing else mattered. Nothing but the fact that he washed her skin clean, her soul too.

And she'd be sleeping in his bed after another round. That was enough.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. **

**A/N: Very sorry this chapter took so long. **

* * *

The incessant drip-drip-drip of the leaky faucet in the corner of the dressing room was driving her crazy. She'd never noticed it before but then she had always had a few shots or a bottle of something to numb her. Kate hadn't had a drop today. Not when she was still walking on eggshells after the last big blowout with her father.

It hadn't helped a thing. Getting mad at him, yelling, storming out and only going home after a few days and being found by Castle - relatively close to needing her stomach pumped - hadn't done a damn thing to help. So she let it go. She didn't feel as alone anymore and she knew she couldn't force her father to sober up. No matter how hard she tried.

She continued life just like always. Except she hadn't had her liquid courage and she'd been on stage twice already. Had the wads of cash in her bag to prove it, stuffed carefully between the pages of her favorite book. One of _his_.

But her hands were shaking, her nerves completely shot and she smudged her eyeliner when she tried to reapply. Cursed at herself for the trembling of her fingers and the burning ache in her blood.

Nobody noticed. No one noticed anything around here. Because no one was sober. Ever. There was always booze being passed around, or something running through their veins. She'd watched more than once as Sapphire and another girl, newer than she was going by the name of Ash, stuck a needle in their own arms. And she was just as guilty of the abuse of alcohol available. But not tonight. She'd turned down every single thing offered...up until that damn sink, her own thoughts, and her shaking hands drove her to the brink. She just needed to calm down. Just a little or she wouldn't be able to finish the night.

So when the next tumbler filled with amber liquid appeared in front of her, she perked up.

She reached for it without even checking to see how it had magically came into existence. But then she heard the voice.

"Figured you could use it." And when she turned to look, she smiled. Emily. Her one friend. Sort of.

"Thanks."

"Well, technically Joe sent it back. No charge. Said you needed it after dealing with the sleazeball in the front row."

"Ah, yeah. That guy." Kate tipped the glass, swallowed a gulp. It burned all the way down, heated her belly as soon as it hit. "He's an ass but he's also the one that stuffs twenties down my underwear instead of singles."

And that was something that didn't happen in a place with dollar beers and scruffy sweaty men that barely even had any money to toss at her. So yeah, he was a hands-y asshat of a man but at least he wasn't cheap.

"Don't let Vincent know."

"I don't plan on it. I've been trying to stay on his good side or at least under the radar." Something dimmed in Emily's eyes and Kate felt a twist in her gut. Remembering the sense of betrayal and the fact that she'd just spilled to her boss's play thing. "Y-you won't say anything, right?"

"No! No, I won't."

Maybe it was naïve but Kate wanted to believe her. She'd seen the sorrow in those green eyes, known how badly her friend felt about the fact that she'd been beaten. But that was in the past. It was over and no, Kate didn't fully trust her...or anyone and yet she still yearned for answers. She still yearned to help.

"You know you could have a better life than this, don't you?" Something Kate, herself, had heard multiple times and she'd swore to never judge but here she was, telling someone something that she didn't even believe herself. "You don't have to stay here...not with him."

"No offense, Kris but you're still here too."

"Yeah, guess you're right." Her companion dropped onto the stool next to her, neither of them bothered by the fact that they were in thongs and skimpy bras. Emily nursed her drink, something longing in her eyes as Kate took another swig of her own. "We're both damned."

"I've got a kid to feed, flunked out of school, tried the fast food thing and been fired more times than I can count." She laughed, a sound of regret instead of joy. "But you? You're smart I can tell, your clothes aren't rags and other than the drinking and occasional pill popping, you don't seem to be on anything...so tell me: why are you here?"

"Things happen and people's lives change in the blink of an eye." It was the only answer Kate was comfortable giving. Just enough to satisfy but not so much that she would have to go into detail. Only one person got to see that side of her.

And he wasn't here.

"So I know you're not really friends with anyone here but if you want, you can come over after shift tonight." It was a soft request, shyly made and given any other day, Kate might have taken her up on it.

"I-I can't. I have a thing...my-"

"The guy?"

"Yeah." Just thinking of him had her smiling - he was the only happiness she had anymore. Even if she didn't really think of him as a boyfriend. She smothered that saddened thought with another sip of alcohol. "But maybe another time?"

"Sure." The beaming smile she got in response was enough to assuage the last of her fears that Esmerelda/Emily might let it slip about how she was pocketing extra money. And that was comforting. Especially since she had a plan for the extra she'd made tonight.

A plan that involved trying to figure out what to get for a four year old girl who had everything. She'd never had to think of a child before. She didn't even know if she was making the right move or if Rick would get mad at her for overstepping. Was she overstepping? They'd only been seeing each other romantically for a few weeks.

Relationships were complicated. She had no idea how to have a grown up relationship that involved anything more than cheap dates and making out in places where she wouldn't be caught. Sneaking boys in her window and sometimes being the one doing the sneaking in. She'd never been in anything real. They hadn't even been on a date yet and she didn't know if she wanted to go on one.

He was more high profile than she was. There was nothing wrong with it, not when they were alone but she'd never been anywhere in public with him. Well...Bottoms Up didn't really count. And damned if the thought of going on a date didn't make her down the rest of her drink. He deserved someone more on his level and she wasn't it.

She wasn't made for authentic adult relationships.

Not before her mother died and certainly not after. And yet, she couldn't walk away. Not from him. Not this soon. Not when he was the only one that made her feel _something_. Something good. She pushed it down as the alcohol swirled in her stomach, warmed her from the inside. A welcome heat that she'd missed for days.

As startled as she was at the feel of coming home that settled over her, she finished touching up and headed back out. She had another thirty minutes left of shift and if she wanted to stay on good terms with the boss then she had more work to do. At least it'd be easier with the warmth of alcohol in her belly.

* * *

He was nervous. His palms sweating and his breathing just a bit labored but he hadn't seen her in a couple of days. She'd promised to come over after her shift and he'd somehow ended up here instead. Outside the blacked out windows and flashing neon sign, he paced back and forth. An assorted bouquet in one hand and the other sliding down his face. Try number two for a date with Kate.

He hadn't been back here since the day he'd found her unconscious on a filthy little couch in the dressing room. He hated it. He hated that she took her clothes off for a living but he wouldn't be _that _guy. He wouldn't try to control her. Did that mean he accepted it? Hell no. She was more than this place, more than a stripper with wounds deeper than he ever would've guessed.

She was..._something_.

It took him fifteen minutes of pacing around outside to decide it was close enough to the end of her shift. He opened the door as if it didn't bother him to step inside but it did. It ripped through him, sent a wave of anger through every muscle. This place had been just a random stop for research for his book and then it'd been the one place to see _her. _But it wasn't nostalgia that hit him. It was rippling anger. This place had caused so much pain. It had caused _her_ pain.

Something he hadn't noticed his first visit. Now he knew. And he knew exactly what kind of people ran this place – the kind who sell women without their knowledge and get them beaten for a box of cocaine. Kate hadn't shared that story, not entirely and he wouldn't push but he knew there was more. She had a nightmare the last time she stayed over, woke shaking and struggling against some unseen force. She'd brushed it off, told him it was nothing. But he'd known she was lying and neither of them had slept after that.

Still, she worked here and as his eyes scanned for her - found her, he was once again smacked in the face with it. His girlfriend was a stripper in a sleazy joint that peddled drugs and women out the back.

A stripper. One currently up close and personal with a man that looked to be too drunk, too handsy and enjoying a lap dance entirely too much. It wasn't intentional but after the flowers in his hand dropped, his fists clenched. It was Kate. He knew those waves, even if she'd curled them into spirals. He knew her body. The curve of her spine. He knew every inch of her. The legs, toned and slim with that spattering of freckles high on her thigh. He'd kissed each one. Even if he couldn't see them at the moment, he felt entirely too possessive over those tiny little marks on her skin.

Everything twisted in his chest, his heart ached when she rocked her hips. All he could think of was the way he'd gripped those hips, how he'd felt her tighten and clench around him, how he'd been buried inside her and now she was smiling and squirming around in some other man's lap.

But he knew her. He knew Kate. He knew she hated giving lap dances and that her smile was faked. Painfully faked. That didn't stop the ache. Or the surge of _mine, mine, mine_ that shot all the way down to his toes. He itched to march over there, grab her, take her out of here. He wanted to rage, he wanted to go caveman and drag her away, call her his and not let her out of his sight. He couldn't do that to her. He _wouldn't._

His feet didn't move but his eyes followed every bow of her spine, every obscene grind of those sinful hips. The ones he'd held so gently and guided with each thrust. He could still hear her, the way she moaned.

She wasn't making any sound at all now. And when she stopped, when her eyes met his through the haze of smoke and the poor lighting, when her body froze and jerked tight, he held just as still.

The ache intensified when she turned away from him, when she resumed her _work _as if he were any other customer and he was left watching as she arched against another man. He couldn't. She was burrowed deeper beneath his skin than he'd realized.

He leaned down to grab the bouquet he'd dropped and then he walked away. He should have walked out, maybe sucked in some air to calm down and wait for her but he didn't. He headed for the bar. He turned his back on the show and parked himself on a bar-stool. The flowers found a home next to a few empty shot glasses that he hadn't had the pleasure of sucking back himself.

He ordered a beer and waited.

When it appeared in front of him, he reached out just to keep his hands busy and to stop himself from turning back around and dragging her away from this place. His grip tightened on the glass when he heard the catcalls and the derogatory words being tossed her way. She wasn't any of those things. She wasn't anyone's _honey. _She wasn't a whore and they had no right to talk at her instead of to her. She deserved respect. She was amazing. And funny. Intelligent and broken.

And he _hated _that she was labeled as anything but.

He blocked it out, thought of his daughter and how she'd asked while he tucked her in if Kate could come over. He'd been presumptuous and told her that she'd be over for breakfast. Now he wasn't sure. Would she want to stay? She had before but he didn't know if he actually wanted her to. Not now.

He was still staring down when long feminine fingers wrapped around his glass. He'd waited and yet he also wished he hadn't. Until she pulled it away and forced him to look over at her.

This woman wasn't his. She wasn't the Kate that barely wore makeup and showed up at his door wearing his shirt. She wasn't the same woman that had the soft locks that drifted over his chest or twined so easily between his fingers when they made love.

But she was. She was and he realized it the second he caught her eyes. Apologetic and brimming with emotion. He ignored her outfit. The black and blue lace with the butterfly perched just above the cleft of her ass. He'd caught sight of the thong enough when she was in another man's lap. He hated it. So he kept his eyes locked on hers.

"Hey," she spoke first and didn't sound very confident.

"Hey."

"I uh – I'm sorry." And she was, he could hear it in the soft words. Her regret wrapped around each syllable. He could also see it in every feature of her face. Eyes, lips, brow. But it didn't lessen the ache. "I'm off in a few minutes if you still want -"

"We set a date. I'm not backing out of that."

"Okay, just give me a few minutes to get dressed." She didn't sound so sure of him but she only lingered a couple more seconds, squeezed his bicep as if she needed some way to anchor him there and then she was gone.

And he still had no idea what he was feeling. He wasn't mad at her...but he was a little. He didn't know that he had the right to be and he was stupid for even thinking she would quit this job as soon as they spent that first night together. Because that night had changed things, she wouldn't work for him anymore, didn't accept money if he offered it.

She'd quit. Told him that if they were going to be sleeping together, she couldn't be employed by him. He understood. He did but he still hated it, hated that the money she'd made working for him was probably gone and she was back to struggling just as hard as when he first met her. It didn't sit right with him, that he had options and money and she was still stripping for cash in a place that kept part of her pay.

She'd told him a few nights ago on the phone that she made roughly five to six hundred a night, three nights a week plus the check from her waitressing job but out of that six hundred, she was lucky if she got to keep two to three of it anymore.

There had to better places and the least he could do was help her find something. He just didn't know how to broach the subject. Nor was he so sure that he should even bring it up when the image of her bare ass in another man's hands was still burned in his brain.

So much for her no touching rule.

* * *

Her flowers were a little beaten down but she still cradled them as if they were a tiny newborn. Gentle and occasionally stroking over the petals. Their date had been a bit stilted. He'd wanted to take her out and show her a good time but they'd ended up with burgers at Remy's. That was it. She'd said she was tired but hungry and all of his plans didn't seem so special anymore.

He didn't really think of it as much of a date at all when she'd kept to herself, stayed quiet and slightly withdrawn. She hadn't said much at all until they were already home. His home.

But in the elevator something had changed. She'd held the bouquet up to her face, inhaled and that small breath of hers had sucked all the air from his lungs. Her eyelids fluttered shut, a smile quirked up the corners of her mouth and he felt that possessive surge race back into his blood. He just wanted to know where they stood. And yet he couldn't ask.

When her eyes met his and held, he felt the heat spark in his gut and knew she felt it too. If there was one thing they seemed to master without fail, it was the sex. And if that was what she was expecting then he definitely wouldn't disappoint. There had been enough of that tonight.

She trailed along at his side when they exited the elevator, not touching him. In fact she hadn't touched him since that single squeeze her fingers around his arm before they'd left Bottoms Up and some of the hurt and anger swirled with the heat of arousal.

He played the part of gentleman, held the door of the loft open for her and waited until she was inside before crossing the threshold. He bolted it behind him, felt the weight of the night settle heavily on his shoulders and turned to face her just as she did the same.

"Rick, I -" He swallowed her words. He flew to her. Gripping her cheeks in his palms, he pulled her in and sucked any apology or excuse right off her lips. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to _see _it either.

And she was just as desperate, clawing at him. Her body molded to his and her mouth opened. Just one swipe of his tongue against hers and it skyrocketed into clothes being obstacles and hands fighting and fumbling to remove them.

He barely had the sense to get them into his office before his knuckles bumped against hers as they both pulled her shirt over her head. It turned from frenzied to punishing the second he saw her bra. The very same one she'd danced in. He saw red despite the fact that it was blue and black. His brain completely shut down, coherent thought became impossible and the chant started. Mine, mine, _mine_.

He wasn't as gentle as he'd been in the past. He tugged hard at the straps, snapped the clasp with no finesse and his blunt nails might've scraped her skin more than once. He didn't care, he wanted it off of her and she was warm, pliant. Her breath panting against his lips and she rocked into him, hips grinding. All too familiar.

That was when he lost it. The tiny shred of control he'd had became nonexistent and the ache in his groin became all encompassing. She would be the death of him. But first, he'd make sure the only touch she remembered was his.

He skipped her lips this time. His hands skimmed up her ribs, palms filled with the warm weight of her breasts and then he ducked, took one long suck of a nipple. Teeth scraping when her hands fisted in his hair. She was pulling but he didn't stop and when she arched into it, he knew she didn't want him to.

Her moan echoed, pounded in his ears with the blood that rushed south. All he could feel was her, all he could taste and he needed more. More of her. When would that incessant burning need for her ebb? He didn't know if he ever wanted it to.

With his teeth sinking into the plump soft warmth of her breast and her nails scraping over his scalp, he became primal. The heat between them blazing into a wild fire of his open mouth against her skin and nipping just a bit too hard, of her hands clenching and her body arching. His brain still chanting. Mine.

Except for some reason it felt more like she was the one with the power. It felt like he was hers.

It was fast. It was rough. It was everything she needed. His mouth marked her skin. The pale flesh of her breast already showing the reddening purple and she sobbed out an apology that seemed to only spur him on. His hands were everywhere. On her ass, pulling her close and making sure she could feel how hard he was and then suddenly groping her breasts, pinching her nipple and her head spun.

This wasn't what she'd imagined. Not after what she'd done.

She hadn't expected him to back her into his desk and ravage her chest with harsh kisses and love bites. Nor had she expected him to invite her to his place at all. But she was against his desk. The wood digging in as he pressed closer and she barely kept her eyes open long enough to watch as he roughly shoved at her jeans.

She helped. She wanted. She needed. Even when he left her jeans at her knees and crowded her so she couldn't kick them off. She _needed_ him, now. She pulsed with every breath, her body weeping for him and she felt her lips moving, knew she was saying something but couldn't even hear the words over the sound of fabric being tugged. There was nothing she needed more in that moment than his hands on her skin.

He was beautiful sometimes. Always, really. But now, with his blue eyes dark and maybe just a bit feral, she found him exquisite. Something tugged in her chest and she ignored it, reached for his zipper whilst confused over when he lost his shirt. He didn't let her get very far, didn't let her fingers unsnap the button of his pants. His hand encircled her wrist, pulled it away and before she could even frown at him, he spun her.

His hands wide on her hips as he pressed against her back. His chest hot, boiling, his mouth finding her shoulder, her neck, until his lips wrapped around her earlobe.

"I hate this." He breathed the words out, rough and filled with a hatred that had her gut clenching. She didn't understand.

And she was drowning in him, in the fact that he'd just said that while skimming a palm around her front, letting it dip down to cup between her thighs. Her knees buckled, the stiffness in her spine evaporated as her body responded. Her brain did not. But then he kissed just beneath her ear, something softer. Rubbed his nose there as if he needed it imprinted into her skin.

He said it again. Emphasizing the '_this' _while gripping the skimpy string of her thong. And she got it. It clicked into place. She understood. He didn't appreciate the fact that she was still wearing the set she'd worn to work. Because her work had involved a lap dance and he'd walked in and caught her. Something she detested and used to refuse but she couldn't anymore. She tried to speak, tried to reassure him but he was already pulling them tight. The lace cut into her skin for a brief uncomfortable moment and then she heard the rip, felt them slacken and then they were gone and his palm was pushing at her spine.

He guided her down, she didn't fight it. Her body pliant and quick as her breasts came to rest on the cool top of the desk and she didn't know what to do with her hands, didn't know what she was even expecting of him. Then he was there, right where she wanted him. His length hard and heavy pushing inside. It wasn't soft, it wasn't slow. He was...ferocious and she hadn't realized how much she wanted it like this until she felt him stretch her, felt the thrust of him inside.

The punishing pace that had her hip bones clanging against the edge of the desk and her nails trying to find purchase in anything wasn't enough. She scraped, held on, rocked back into him. She wanted it just as much as he did. Needed more. The fire burning low in her abdomen wasn't enough. The fact that he'd ripped her underwear off of her was burned into every sharp gasp.

The slap of their bodies and the pleasure ripping through every nerve between her thighs had her crying out. Completely unashamed. Feeling nothing more than each thick slide of him inside of her. Everything faded. The sickening touch she'd felt on her skin all night long vanished, replaced by his.

And then he was everywhere at once. Inside. Over. Between. His chest at her back, one hand between her thighs, sliding slick fingers over her clit and the other came up to cover her mouth mid moan. His voice followed with soft words. Shushing her gently but she barely cared. He was wreaking havoc over her. Every inch of her on fire. Her legs quaking with each sharp piston of his hips and stroke of his fingers.

He was right there with her, chanting her name. She heard her name and a rough growl of _mine _but then he pressed his fingers to her in just the right way, thrust deep and she crashed over. Body a mess beneath his, shaking and clenching around him, drawing him deeper. Her teeth clamped in his hand around a sob and she felt him break.

Everything was sharp, clear. Bursting. He was right...she was his.

She couldn't move. She didn't try. He was slumped against her back, pinning her down and she barely managed enough strength to kiss his palm. Soft compared to the bite she'd inflicted. Her legs gave and he groaned at the shift it caused. But he kept her there and she was grateful for the cool surface of the desk beneath her cheek.

Her skin was a furnace. She felt like she was boiling but she didn't squirm, didn't ask him to move. He'd needed reassurance and she'd let him have it. He'd needed to release some tension, some anger. She wasn't sure what that meant for them but she knew she'd needed it too. She'd needed the possessiveness. Not his. But her own. Maybe she was the one bent over the desk, but she'd just possessed him in her own way. Staked her claim and made him erase the touch of anyone else's hands.

She still had her jeans on. And her shoes. The thought crashed into her. Unexpected and amusing. She giggled. He moved then, his breath ghosting along her shoulder. Warm and moist. And then he nuzzled in her hair, gentleness replacing the beast within.

"M'still wearing pants." She giggled again, felt his chest shake too and the stilted awkwardness was long gone.

"You okay?" He was quiet, unsure. Kate hated that, that she'd done that to him.

It only served as a reminder that she wasn't any good at this and that she didn't fit. But she was selfish and she wanted to so she nodded.

Her hips ached from knocking against the edge of the desk and there was a pleasant throb between her thighs but he hadn't hurt her.

"Stay?" That sounded a little shaky too so she didn't even think about it.

"Okay."

He seemed satisfied by it, by her. He wasn't as tense, he was molded to her but even when he moved, he was better. Her legs felt like jello when she followed him. The slick mess between them uncomfortable as she stepped out of her shoes and kicked off her jeans but the air was cleared. He was the one that gathered their clothes and nodded toward the bedroom.

The hesitancy was gone and she walked ahead of him, led the way and mumbled about needing the bathroom. She was quick about it, she didn't want to leave him for long but she needed to freshen up some and when she made it back, he was turning down the blankets for the night.

He smiled and she felt her own bloom. Both of them still bare and grinning at each other, she was sure they looked like morons. But when he stepped closer, caught her chin and dipped down to brush his mouth softly against hers, she was okay with it. His smile pressed to hers again and she let the tips of her fingers skim over his side.

"I'm sorry, Rick, I didn't -"

"Shh, you said that enough and I know." His eyes were soft, he wasn't holding it against her and the tug in her chest loosened when his smile widened. "In fact you kept chanting it when I had my -"

She shoved his shoulder, barely moved him at all.

"Hush." He did and she kept it to herself that she hadn't been the only one saying things while mind numbed and fucking.

He lingered a second longer, his lips pressing to her hair and then he stepped around and headed for the bathroom.

Kate made herself comfortable, she wasn't out of place in his room. Though she definitely should be. She wasn't. And that made it easy to slide into one of his shirts and make her way to the bed. She waited for him there, stayed awake just to feel him curl against her when he came back.

With an inch between their faces and the lights dimmed, she felt his sigh against her lips. The heavy exhale of it through made his nostrils flair and it took her right back to seeing him there tonight. Feeling that dread settle and the fear that he'd walk out, walk away. He'd be smart if he did but she didn't want him to.

He'd brought her flowers. _Oh god._

"The flowers, I dropped them, I -"

"I'll buy you more." It was ridiculous but she knew he meant it. The bouquet somewhere in his living room would still be there in the morning. He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her closer and she went willingly, pressed warmly to his chest and bumped her nose to his.

"I am sorry, I didn't do it to hurt you. I need you to know that." She'd done it solely because she didn't want to lose her job but after seeing that look in his eyes when she'd been mid lap dance, she knew that it wasn't worth it.

None of it was worth it and her life was poisonous.

"I do, Kate and let's just put it to rest tonight. Soon though, we need to talk about a few things."

He fell asleep before she did but she stayed right there in his hold, with him breathing against her. She needed to figure a lot out before they had that talk. She needed to get her priorities in order. And that terrified her because they didn't fit in each others lives.

But she wanted them to. She needed to think. She needed some time. She needed so much but it had to start now. She'd sleep next to him, revel in his warmth and slip out before dawn. She had some things to do.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nope. Nope.**

**A/N: So sorry this took so long! I will be sharing good news soon on my tumblr. Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

It should have been exciting, and yet, Kate felt as though she was about to willingly step into a bear trap. A four year old should not induce this kind of panic or maybe it was normal when dating a single parent. She didn't have a lot of experience with this…none to be exact. She'd spent two hours getting ready, questioning her clothing choice all the way out the door because she wanted the approval of his daughter. He'd said casual but she'd found her best pair of jeans and a comfortable purple shirt with a pocket over the left breast.

No more stolen nights. If she wanted to be with him, then she needed to do this. She had to get over her own fears and see him as a family package. If she wanted him, she had to accept his daughter and his mother. Which was hard for her to swallow, not because she didn't want to. It was just her fear of tainting them somehow, of ruining things. And maybe she was also just really fucked up. She should have just walked away when she first had the chance. She should have kept him out of her life.

It was too late now. She was too deeply involved with him. Her heart too bruised by just the thought of ending things when everything else had already fallen apart around her. So she wouldn't.

It didn't calm her heart or settle her stomach and god she was an awful person. She'd found another stash of her father's whiskey this morning, poured a generous amount in her coffee and then dumped the rest down the sink. What kind of person did that knowing they were about to interact with a child? She hated herself for it. She wasn't buzzed, she wasn't anywhere near it but it still bothered her that she'd done it. After she'd promised herself she'd try to be better. Like father, like daughter.

And when Rick opened the door with a smile on his face, she hated her poor choice even more. He made her want to be better. Was that even healthy? God, what did she know about healthy? Her mom was murdered, her dad was an alcoholic and she was a stripper and sometimes drug mule.

Once. That happened one time. But it was still a part of her she wouldn't ever forget. She hadn't exactly been the poster child for good behavior before her life was flipped upside down either. Now she was about to spend the day with Richard Castle and his daughter and then later she'd be downing shots and dancing for cash.

Until he leaned in and smoothed his lips over hers and then she retracted her last thought. No shots. It wasn't worth it anymore. She needed to try harder. She needed to be better.

"Hey, I'm glad you came." He looked happy to see her. Relieved even as he tugged on her ponytail and bumped his nose against hers. Foreheads touching, he stole a quick soft kiss.

She knew why. They'd argued a bit over this, over her being more involved with his life and he was right. She needed to make decisions, hard ones. She couldn't keep running and hiding and spiraling into a hot mess. Not when her father was doing enough of that for the both of them.

So when she shared the next breath with him, she pressed her palm to his chest. The cotton of his shirt and the warmth he exuded calmed. The thud of his heart beneath her fingertips was enough.

"I'm glad I did too." The words were true as she spoke them. Even though her worries and fear hadn't disappeared completely.

She was still ashamed of herself, feeling unworthy. Just not quite as much now that he was warm against her. Kate was in no place to want or ask for any of it, but she did. She wanted him and his family. He was her escape from the world she was living in. An alternate reality.

Richard Castle, author, had created a place in his life just for her and she was going to earn it. Somehow.

"Are you ready?" With his brow furrowed and tone serious, she felt her heart kick up a notch and a pulse between her thighs. If she didn't know he was talking about spending the day with his family, she would have assumed his intentions were salacious.

"Ready." To prove it she abandoned the warmth of his body and stepped around him to fully enter the loft.

Just in time as a tiny body capped with a flaming braid bounced down the stairs with a stuffed monkey tucked under one arm and a smile on her face. Kate felt the weight crash over her, the responsibility was stifling but if she wanted a better life, she needed to get used to the fear.

She needed to learn to live without the wall.

"Kate!" The joy was absolute, the small child already trusted her not to mess up. "You came!"

For a second she didn't say a word, just floundered in uncertainty, searched Rick's gaze for a hint of help and then Alexis hugged her legs. Little arms wrapped tight. She'd barely interacted with the girl before but this felt okay.

"I was told I was invited to the best movie marathon of my life. Couldn't say no." She chose to leave out that she had said no…several times but the smile on Alexis's face eased the tight knot in her stomach. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so difficult after all.

* * *

It was awkward at first. She didn't know where to sit, what to say, when to say it or what to do with her hands. There was a moment when Alexis kept chattering that she felt overwhelmed, wanted to apologize and just run out. It passed the moment Rick plopped in the middle of the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn and Alexis curled into his side.

Kate was fine through the first movie, answered all of Alexis's little questions and it became easier. It became comfortable. Before she knew it, she was leaning against him too. She slipped into the role faster than she had expected, she found herself smiling and laughing, genuinely having a good time with him and his young daughter.

She wanted to spend her days here, having a good time and forgetting about the mess at home. In the middle of the second movie, the buffer between them bowed out for a bathroom break.

"Daddy likes you." Alexis stated matter of fact after her father had left the room.

"I like him as well."

"I like you." The honesty resonated in every word, in the light blue eyes that stared into hers. "Daddy says you mightly have to leave early."

"Alexis…" It wasn't her business but somehow she felt compelled to defend her decision to be all in and slid her arm around little shoulders. "We're going to finish this marathon, I promise. Then maybe we can go out for ice cream if your father says it's okay."

She didn't know if she was doing the right thing but it felt good when the girl bridged the gap and wiggled her little body as close to Kate's as possible. The conversation ended when Alexis giggled over a scene in Pocahontas but Kate was focused on her. On her cute grammar mishaps and the way her nose scrunched as she laughed and the fact that it was impossible not to fall in love with her.

Rick returned without a word about his seat being taken but his arm slid along the back of the couch, fingers brushing her neck and playing with her ponytail. She pulled her legs up on the couch, tucking them beneath her and squeezed his daughter closer to her side.

Maybe she was capable of being a friend to the girl. She was doing her best and that would have to be enough for now.

With each movie came different snacks, different commentary from the Castles. By the time they made it through the fifth film, it was a given neither father nor daughter could stay quiet for more than a few minutes.

It was different. It was loud.

It was _warm. _And she'd been cold for so long. Fingers rubbed at the base of her skull, pressing as if he followed her thoughts and she gave him the barest of smiles.

"You okay?"

"I'm good," she murmured. "I'm really good."

"We have about twenty minutes before my mother gets here. Still good?" The thought of Martha caused her stomach to twist but she simply turned her attention back to the television. "Maybe more, she's a fashionably late kinda woman."

"Rick, shhh, you're interrupting the movie."

* * *

His mother arrived late but with a wave of her hands, she ignored his playful jests and headed straight for her granddaughter. Kate had met her before but this felt different. This was different. She suddenly wanted to be worthy of her approval.

A mother wanted best for their son or daughter and it made her nervous. She was a stripper and she didn't know where that would land her in the future. She hadn't even planned for much of a future until now. She promised herself she wouldn't back down so when the opportunity to get Martha alone came up, she took it.

She didn't actually need anything from the kitchen but she excused herself for a bottle of water and silently pep talked herself into speaking as Martha puttered about.

"I - I'm glad you came tonight." And then she cursed herself for saying anything. This wasn't her home. "That didn't come out right."

"Calm down, dear."

"I just wanted to talk…about if - I know I'm young."

"I am hardly one to judge." As Martha perched herself on a barstool, she winked and Kate felt the tension ease. "Richard has had _questionable _taste in women and I'll admit I've had reservations about what you two are doing."

"Me too." It was the first time she admitted it out loud and for a second she gaped at his mother, shocked she even spilled but then she returned the smile Martha gave and joined her at the bar. "I'm not…I don't want anyone to think I'm here for the wrong reasons."

"My son told me about you awhile ago."

"Did he tell you I'm -"

"A _dancer_? Yes, and again, darling, hardly one to judge." In that moment Kate found herself thinking of her mom…but she didn't feel grief and sadness. Just a warmth that helped her breathe a little easier. "He cares for you and I can see you care for him. That's good enough in my book."

"Do you want to go for ice cream with us?" She wasn't even sure there was going to be an ice cream run but if there was one, she didn't mind going with the whole family.

Her reservations had vanished. She was dating a family man and he was kind, gentle. She accepted him, she liked him, she wanted to be here. His daughter was winning her over and his mother was too. She was falling in love with him and instead of eagerly wanting to leave, she wanted to skip her shift at Bottoms Up and stay.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Not at all mine.**

**A/N: I didn't abandon ship! I promise. Here's a new chapter. I made sure it was a long one in an attempt to make up for taking so long. **

* * *

The night was in full swing when the car pulled up by the curb. Kate felt her palms grow sweaty, her muscles rigid and her stomach tossed to the point she was shocked the ice cream stayed down. She'd been part of something tonight, part of something more than dancing in a club and being an alcoholic's daughter. She was still part of it now, sitting in the passenger seat and letting someone in enough to give her a ride to work.

She was warring with herself, telling herself to run, telling herself to stay, trying to talk herself out of going to work while trying to talk herself into it. Her heart thumped in her chest, heavy as a stone beating at her ribs. This wasn't where she wanted to be.

She unclenched her hand from the handle of the door, turned away from the dark alleyway that led to the tiny room where she slipped into something skimpy that would earn enough singles to pay another round of bills. After the day with Richard Castle and his family, she couldn't do it.

"Can you give me a ride home?" she asked, her voice soft, no more than a whisper.

"Yeah, what time do you need me to -"

"Now. I mean now." Her eyes searched for his, locking on as she swallowed nervously. "I don't want to do this. Not tonight."

_Not again. Not another night._

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go, Kate." His words made her heart flutter and her stomach calm. The panicked feeling dissipated with the knowledge that she wasn't dancing tonight.

"Home. I want to go home."

She wanted a quiet evening after a great day with a wonderful man and his loving family. This was how it should always be. Instead of dread, nerves, and liquid courage, it should have been security, hope, a dream for a future.

When had she lost that dream? She glanced back at the alley, at the club itself. A pit settled in her stomach again, heavy and uncomfortable…until warm fingers curled over her thigh and gave a soft squeeze. The building lost her attention, no longer interesting, not when he was touching her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm really good." With a smile, she let her hand cover his and hold it there, warm on her leg. "Thank you for today."

"My pleasure." He never really seemed to believe her when she insisted she was fine - not when it came to this. Even in the dark car, she could see the skepticism written all over his face, buried in the crease of his brow and punctuated by the thin line of his lips. It probably didn't help that her voice kept coming out shaky.

"Let's get out of here." _Away._ Away from the place that caused her more misery and had her questioning more than just her life choices. Tonight would be about comfort, something she longed to feel. She leaned across the console, ignored the seatbelt digging in and pressed her mouth to his jaw, soft and sweet, lips lingering as she breathed words into his skin. "Take me home?"

His hand came up to press gently against the back of her neck, holding her in place for just a moment. Fingers twined through her ponytail and she let out a sigh of relief. She wasn't going to be on a stage for all to see tonight. She didn't have to lock away her emotions. She made a choice, she was choosing something better.

And with another press of her mouth, this time to the corner of his, Kate let the thoughts of the club and the threat of Vincent fade away.

"Are you hungry? We can get some food."

"We just had ice cream an hour ago." She wasn't in the mood for eating. Her stomach still rolled just enough to make the thought too repugnant.

"Right. Okay, I'll need to know where I'm going."

* * *

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the front door was open and the heat of the hand at the small of her back vanished. The air she sucked into her lungs made them burn, and everything felt new, raw. The last half of the drive she'd been brimming with heat, craving the thought of letting him inside her home, her bedroom.

The thought was forbidden, made her feel like she was still that normal girl who defied her parents and took pleasure in sneaking boys into her room. She hadn't had anyone inside her home in a long time. But here she was, in the dark of night, reaching for his hand. When she stepped inside and glanced over her shoulder, Rick looked almost boyish and nervous in the smile he gave. His fingers squeezed around hers and she beamed.

"Come on."

"Are you sure it's okay if I -"

"The lights are off. My dad is either not here or passed out. I'm an adult, now come on." She saw something flash in his eyes, something fearful and she wasn't sure if it was adorable or annoying to know he was concerned about her father being around.

He followed her after another pause in the doorway, and let her guide him by the tug of her hand. It only took a few seconds to realize they weren't alone. The stench of alcohol made her crinkle her nose as she crossed into the living room. She ignored the pang in her chest when they passed the couch, the ache that settled bone deep at the thought of her father being nothing more than a snoring lump, and the slight heat of embarrassment that burned her ears because she couldn't introduce the two important men in her life.

It had her face scorching, rosy with it, ashamed of her father, ashamed of herself and then she felt the gentle squeeze around her palm as if the man at her side knew she needed to be reassured. As if he knew exactly where her thoughts were heading and wanted her to know he was _with _her.

She waited until she tugged him inside of her room before she uttered a word.

"I'm sorry about…well all of that." Her hands gestured toward the door in hopes that he knew what she meant. "I didn't want you to see -"

"Kate, you don't owe me an apology for anything."

"The movies are on that shelf," she said as pointed over his shoulder. It was a subject change, one she needed and one he accepted with a nod. "I'm just gonna get us some snacks."

It was an excuse to get a little air, to think without his eyes asking questions she didn't feel like answering tonight. And if he knew, he let it slide with a tilt of his lips.

She hadn't considered how it would feel to walk her boyfriend through a living room with empty bottles, the stench of booze, and her father passed out on the couch when she'd invited him in for a movie. She'd been thinking of having some alone time with him after a day with his family, just a few hours. She didn't regret asking but part of her wished things were different.

In haste, she headed away from him and toward the kitchen. With drinks and snacks in mind, she pushed the mess in her head into a box, folded down the sides and taped it shut.

_Not tonight._ She didn't want to deal with anything tonight.

* * *

It took him a minute to decide he wasn't interested in picking a movie, less than a minute if he timed it but he couldn't help it. There was too much to drink in. The knickknacks scattered over the top of her dresser, the books stacked in a corner instead of on a shelf, and the tangled mess of her bed as if she'd been in a hurry this morning and forgot to make it. Or maybe she never did. He didn't know.

He was still learning her habits, her likes and dislikes and her bedroom was turning out to be a portal into who she was as a person, a teenager, a child. So it wasn't his fault he'd abandoned the movie shelf to run his finger over a bridge of porcelain elephants or eye the stack of CDs next to her stereo in the corner by the closet.

The knowledge hidden in her room was more than he'd prepared himself for and it hit him right in the chest, knocked the air out of his lungs. He didn't _know _her this intimately yet and he was already falling in love with her.

He stopped nosing through her things when he made it to the nightstand. He'd never seen her mother, never asked to, but there on the table next to the bed was a framed photo and his heart constricted. He knew just by a glance that this had to be her mother, the resemblance was undeniable.

He didn't want to upset her, didn't want her to walk in and see him staring so he sat on the bed and tried to keep his hands to himself. Which worked for a few seconds, until he saw his own name. A copy of one of his books was resting slightly behind the photo and he couldn't resist.

The spine was creased, the cover a little bent at the corners and he had to know. He needed to see where she was in the book, what chapter, what scene, maybe find out her favorite character.

That was how she caught him, thumbing through his own book when the door softly shut with a snick and her eyebrow arched as she stood in front of him with a bag of Doritos and drinks in darkened brown bottles.

"I leave you to pick a movie and you're reading your own book instead?"

"Wasn't aware you're such a big fan." He'd caught her before but this was different. To know his book rested next to her bed by a photo of her mother…it was a lot different than just knowing she read one of his books.

"Well, it's not horrible." A smirk pulled at her lips, he watched the playfulness spark in her eyes as she dropped the chips to the mattress and placed two rootbeers in front of her mother's framed picture.

He let the book fall, the colored cover a shocking contrast to the soft lavender of her sheets and reached for her arm. The squeak she let out when he pulled her down was cute, a little sexy, but nothing compared to her breath mingling with his as he rolled her beneath him or the way her hair fanned out on the pillowcase when he rose up just enough to admire the view. Her beauty, the flush in her cheeks, the soft bow of her lips, how was he supposed to resist?

"Not horrible?"

"I like your books, Rick. Almost as much as I like the author."

"We should pick a movie." Despite his words, he didn't move to do so, instead his hand drifted to the hem of her shirt and toyed with the edge of it before dipping beneath to rest against her bare side.

"Yeah…yeah. Movie." Her skin was warm, smooth, so unbelievably soft and while her mouth said movie, the slight arch of her hips into his said something else entirely.

When her tongue darted out to coat her bottom lip in a thin layer of moisture, he was a goner. The need for her slammed into him, coursed through his veins, settled in his groin with that one swipe of her tongue. He'd known he shouldn't say yes when she asked him to come inside but he'd been unable to decline the invitation.

Curiosity of her home, her personal space, of _her._

Curiosity killed the cat. He was the cat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, way in the back, he wondered if it was twisted to be thinking of her writhing beneath him while her father was passed out in the living room. And then she pressed her palm to his cheek and raised up, nose bumping his, pupils wide and dark and he forgot about everything but her the moment her lips met his.

Didn't he know by now that he was doomed?

Something about the setting, being in her room, pinning her down on a twin mattress with purple sheets and a flower embroidered on the pillowcase was wildly arousing. This was a side of Kate Beckett he hadn't ever seen and with her mouth hot and silky against his, he took advantage of her eagerness. Pressing his groin to hers, grunting when she wrapped an endlessly long leg around his hip and rocked against him.

Pleasure zipped down his spine, nerves firing, body aching to touch hers as he explored her mouth. Kissing her had become one of his favorite things to do. He dueled with that sharp witted tongue and nipped at her plump bottom lip, relished in her soft moan.

One of his hands drifted up, legs bumped, his palm rested over her pebbled nipples and her back bowed, she pressed closer. There were many wondrous things Rick Castle had seen in his life but her face as he pulled away to look down at her had to be top of list. With heavy lidded eyes, she looked up at him, her kiss swollen lips tilted in a smirk that dared him to keep going. He was never one to back down from a dare.

The hot burst of arousal tightened in his abdomen, made him twitch in anticipation and the need to shed every article of clothing in a rush to be buried inside her spread through his limbs. Part of him had known this would be the outcome of their "movie" plans.

There was no pause button on this, no fast forward or rewind. He only wished for the ability to pause when she knocked his hands away from her breasts, lifted up and pulled the shirt over her head. Another thing he adored in a long list - her impatience in bed. He curled the tips of his fingers into her waistband as she reached around to unsnap her bra. Self sufficient and just as aroused, she was beating him in loss of clothing but he didn't much care. Instead, helping her out seemed far more entertaining than divesting himself of his own.

Ignoring his own state of arousal, the heavy tightness in his crotch and the discomfort of his pants, he worked on her. Tugging until her hips were bare, then her thighs, the glorious space between. He nipped the side of her knee as he dragged the fabric down so she could kick it off, chuckled when she jerked in surprise.

Warm skin - slightly rough from a scar she informed him came from a biking mishap at the age of ten - was beneath his lips and he let himself enjoy her. Her knee knocked against his head when his mouth trailed up. He didn't care. The inside of her thigh, soft, tantalizing, he couldn't help but sink his teeth in just a little, soothe the sting by blowing a cool stream of air over it. Her skin tightened, goosebumps rose and the pride in his chest thumped wildly with his heart.

Her legs fell open, letting him settle between with his palms resting on her hips, thumb tracing the tattoo that dipped low. He buried his nose there, the crease of her thigh, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her. The sweet musk of her arousal only fueled his own and with a growl, he gave in and let himself have a taste.

Her hands clamped over his ears, nails biting as he flattened his tongue against her. Hot, wet, sweet, tangy - the only words that existed in his vocabulary as he flicked her clit just to hear her whine. She rocked against him, rubbing herself against his chin, circling her hips as he sucked.

He was lost in her. The taste, the scent, the glistening pink flesh that greeted him when he pulled back to admire her. She was a work of art. Flawless.

Her hands tugged, wanted him back, pulling as she panted his name. He wasn't ready yet, and with the taste of her on his tongue, he beamed up at her before his thumb stroked over her labia. Parting her folds, it was his turn to grunt and shift his hips. He pressed hard into the mattress, wanting some relief.

"Please…" she whined, chasing his touch. Only to stop cold when a something creaked loudly.

His eyes widened to match hers, the sound followed by a tap at her door.

"Katie?" A slurred voice he assumed was her father's broke through their salacious activities.

Her face was already flushed, tinged with the heat of the moment but he watched her turn tomato red, frozen in place and found it adorable. He chuckled, she tugged his ear, silently shushed him and stayed silent.

He'd guess her hope was that the man on the other side of the door would go away if she didn't respond. But as she lay bare beneath him, on display, right there, Rick couldn't help but stroke over her.

Her head fell back against the pillow, spine bowed and despite the interruption and the creak of the floorboard, he dived back in. Her thighs clamped tight, muffled any sound but he thought he heard her name again and her mutter a sharp 'go away.' His scalp stung from the tug of her hands, pulling him away as her hips rocked and thighs stayed locked in place.

She was soaked and swollen, he slipped two digits inside her easily, curled them until her legs shook and he had to pin her hips down. He looked up at her, tongue circling her clit, met her gaze as she bit into the back of her hand.

Her stomach clenched, unclenched and he had the best damn view in all of New York City as her chest heaved, erect nipples drawing his attention for a brief second. Her jaw clenched, her hand fell away and he felt her body tighten, felt the flutter of her around his fingers. He stroked inside her, twisting and curling over the spongy walls. He closed his eyes, pushed deeper and sucked.

She came with a quiet breathy moan, and pressed hard against his mouth.

* * *

Kate was still hazy, lazy and sated. Curled on her side on a tiny mattress with a man who just wasn't made for twin beds. Her mind numbed by the fingers brushing over her temple, she was half asleep and just a little giddy. Startled at the sound of his voice.

"Why didn't you go?"

"Hm?"

"The club. Tonight."

"I just…I didn't want to be there." The next part came as a whisper, eyes closed and face pressed to his shoulder. "Not after having a really good day."

"You know I don't care, right? What you do to make money doesn't affect how I think of you and -"

"I do. I know that." Most of the time she knew that. "I just imagined my life differently."

"I'm all ears if you want to talk about it. I have a little more time." He pressed his mouth to her forehead, lips warm on her skin. The comfort he provided in just a simple touch always made her heart flutter.

"I wanted to be the first female Chief Justice."

"You'd be great. You could still go to law school."

"No. I want different things now." That part of her life had passed. She had something else nagging in the back of her mind, a new outlook, a broken heart, a bleeding wound so deep she didn't know how to ever heal it.

"What do you want now?"

_You. _She almost said it but it wasn't the right time and it wasn't completely accurate so she bumped her nose to his and spilled her secret desires.

"I'd like to know what happened to my mother." It wasn't gang violence. She knew it. Maybe it was a gut feeling but she felt it deep in her bones. Something else happened and it rubbed at her, kept her raw and aching for answers. "I'd like to catch who hurt her, took her away. I don't know if I could get in though and I've heard -"

"Are you talking about the Police Academy or the mob?"

"Do you know people who know people?"

"If you're aiming to be a cop, I think I'll stay silent on that topic." The smile she gave him dimmed with insecurity, she dropped her gaze to his chest and put just a few inches of space between them with a shift of her body.

"Do you think I could do it?" Kate asked, dragging her eyes back up to his blue ones. "Do you think I could go from whatever my life is now to being a cop?"

"I think you can do anything, Kate."


	19. Chapter 19

Kate had spent the day enjoying time off work, curled up on her bed with a book in her hands and her head lost in fiction. She didn't want to be sad but every now and then she glanced at the photo on her nightstand and felt a twist in her gut. It was the first one without her mother and not even the thought of weekend plans with her handsome boyfriend and his adorable daughter could stop the grief that built up in her chest.

Today was supposed to be the special day with her dad. He'd been sober the entire week and she thought maybe this time it would last. He promised it would and she was putting her faith in him one more time because she didn't know if she could handle today without him.

They had dinner plans for six and she'd been dressed and waiting since four. She went back to reading to pass the time. She was nervous but wasn't sure why and there was a flutter of excitement as it got closer. It was five-thirty when she looked at the clock again.

A mix of emotions rushed through her and it was hard to separate them but she knew one was guilt. Guilt over being just a little excited for this day followed by a sadness that constricted her chest.

It was her twentieth birthday and her first without her mother. It was bittersweet with a hollowness she couldn't quite figure out but it left her numbed by the time the clock read six. Or maybe that was from the fact that her dad wasn't home yet. She made excuses for the first half hour. Maybe he was stuck in traffic, maybe he got held up somewhere…but as the minutes ticked by, the disappointment began to creep in.

By seven, Kate knew. It wasn't going to be a good birthday at all and the hope she'd held onto all day slowly turned into anger. The book was tossed aside and she found herself pacing the length of the living room. She'd worn her best clothes, fixed her hair, applied makeup, and mentally prepared herself to try and enjoy a birthday without her mother. There hadn't been a cake waiting for her, no card on her nightstand when she woke up but she'd been willing to give it a chance.

She wouldn't hear her mother's voice telling her happy birthday.

At eight, she gave in to her growling stomach and ate a bowl of cereal. She was putting the empty bowl in the sink when the door slammed open. Her father had left the house in a suit and tie, clear eyed and promising to come home employed. The man stumbling in had misplaced his jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up one sleeve, untucked half of his shirt, and reeked of alcohol. The neatly combed hair she'd seen him leave with was sticking up all over his head and the eyes that had been clear were now glazed and bloodshot. Another day she would've stayed silent, disapproving but silent and retreated to her room but not _this _day.

"Where the hell have you been?" If she'd wanted a straight answer, she probably should have waited a few hours till he sobered just enough to give one.

Instead she was greeted with a too loud and off key rendition of Happy Birthday that had extra lyrics thrown in and one verse too many. She stood there waiting for him to finish, with her arms crossed and tears gathering in her eyes. His slurred words and dopey smile did nothing but make her blood boil and when he pressed a kiss to her cheek, she jerked away.

"We had plans."

"I got caught up. I'm sorry, Katie."

"Yeah, I'd say you did," she whispered. "In the bottle."

She wanted to yell, scream, throw things but it wouldn't change a thing. With a shake of her head, she helped him to the couch and left him where he dropped. It was pushing nine when she made a decision. She tied her hair up in a ponytail, slipped her feet into a pair of flats. She didn't bother leaving a note, just grabbed a change of clothes, tossed them into her bag and left.

* * *

Kate had a habit of coming here at night whenever something upset her but as she stood outside his door, she chose not to analyze why. Her emotions were already a mess and adding in anything about the man she was probably in love with would just overwhelm her. Instead of thinking, she knocked on the door and hoped he wasn't busy or asleep. Maybe she should have called or something.

After a few long seconds of silence, the door opened and there he was. The disappointment, the anger, the guilt eased and a sense of calm settled over her when he smiled.

"Kate." His voice was low, quiet and soothing. Everything from his tousled hair to the soft plaid pajamas calmed her. "Hey."

"Hi." He stepped aside and she entered the loft with certainty. She didn't hesitate as often anymore. She was comfortable here with him. So comfortable that as soon as the door closed, she turned to face him and rocked up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck when his palm pressed against the small of her back and his mouth opened beneath hers. The softness of his lips, the heat of his tongue, and the feel of him pressed against her was all she needed. Maybe it wasn't the worst birthday.

When he pulled those tantalizing lips away, his hand swept up her spine and back down again but he made no move to dive back in, to take it any further just yet.

"Happy Birthday." For a brief moment, she felt a smile take over as she beamed up at him. He was sweet, for remembering, for not pushing, for so many things.

"Thank you. I know we had plans later this week but -"

"Things didn't go well?"

"No. Things did not go well at all." Kate let her hands drift to catch his and tug him along a familiar path to the bedroom. "Can I stay?"

She didn't want to have this conversation in the living room. She wanted to be curled up in bed with him, legs tangled and words soft as they talked.

"As long as you want." The offer was a bit over the top but she said nothing as they passed the shelves lined with books and stepped into the room she was quickly becoming way too fond of. "What happened?"

"He missed it. Came home schnockered."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." It wasn't but it also wasn't his place to apologize when he'd done nothing wrong. He wasn't the one who upset her. "We can celebrate."

She wiggled her hips, hands already reaching for the hem of her shirt but his fingers covered hers, stalling.

"Wait, I have something for you." He rushed over to the dresser, reached inside the top drawer and later she would tease him about keeping things in his underwear drawer, the most obvious hiding place.

But at that moment she was too stunned to say anything. He brought back a slim blue box with a silver bow on top. She wasn't sure why she couldn't take her eyes off his or why her hands shook as she reached for the gift. She had accepted that her birthday would be one without presents.

Yet, here was Richard Castle, blowing her expectations out of the water. He urged her to open it, bouncing in excitement and she had to admit it was infectious, made her curious. She lifted the lid gingerly and a gasp slipped out between her parted lips.

Inside the box was a thin silver chain, a bracelet with a pendant. Simple, elegant, and Kate was speechless.

"Happy Birthday, Kate."

"Rick, it's…beautiful." She left it in the box for the moment, reached up to stroke her fingers over his jawline. "Thank you."

He pressed his mouth to hers in a soft kiss, lingering just a moment before playfully nudging her nose with his own. His fingers found the elastic keeping her hair back and carefully tugged until the strands were free and cascading down over her shoulders.

"Now about this _celebration_…" He wiggled his eyebrows as his hands dropped to grip her hips and he pulled her closer. "Is it naked celebrating?"

"Hm. It might be." Her body heated, quivered when his lips made contact with the space just below her ear. Her knees turned to jello and she hooked an arm around his neck.

"I forgot to mention that you look stunning tonight," he mumbled against her skin, words hot and damp.

"Not so bad yourself," she joked. "Like your pjs."

She snapped the waistband and giggled when his hips jerked against her. Only to sigh as his teeth nipped at her neck and his fingers slid beneath her shirt. When his mouth covered hers and the heat of his palm cupped her breast, she knew her birthday had turned out to be pretty damn good.

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**A/N: I put this at the bottom to talk about something. I know I've been gone for a long while...sorry! I come bearing surprises kinda?**

I published a small collection of short stories known as flash fiction. It was required as a class assignment to publish. If you're interested in reading them, it's an ebook that can be epub or mobi file as well as pdf if downloaded from smashwords. It can also be found on barnes and noble, kobo, and iBooks. It's called _Arbitrary_ by Ashley Varner. It's also on goodreads so feel free to rate and review, follow me as an author, or add to your currently reading shelf!


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